


Part I - The game is rigged

by taj_mahal



Series: The accords [1]
Category: Tennis RPF
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Betrayal, Bigotry & Prejudice, Depictions of violence and abuse (non-graphic), Difficult character relationships, Discrimination, Drama, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Family, Flashbacks, Frenemies, Gen, Guilt, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Mentions of (past) abuse, Mentions of Character Death, Non traditional Omegaverse in some aspects, Not a happy story but I promise a happy ending eventually, Omegas in hiding, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Slow Burn, They are all basically who they are in RL, Working for a charity, brief mentions of (potential) non-con, dark themes, eventual mating/bonding/relationships
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-18
Updated: 2019-10-26
Packaged: 2019-10-30 14:27:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 26,285
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17830301
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/taj_mahal/pseuds/taj_mahal
Summary: They are all here for different reasons, all working for this charity dedicated to helping Omegas in desperate need.Roger and Maribel are here in remembrance and to honor a lost loved one.Mirka is here in order to make up for past wrongs against her husband.Carlos is here because he feels it is were he is needed, is here out of empathy and conviction.Stefanos is here because he strongly believes in equality... and a chance to be better than what his nature deems him to be.Sascha is here because he has no choice, because he has to be... and he rather would like to be someplace else.And Rafa, Rafa is not here at all, but only in their memories.





	1. Premise

A couple of things up front / Author's note

This is my very first try at writing something for Omegaverse and I might not have all the facts right...  
The canon compliant stuff will not be explained (like the distinction of alpha/beta/omega or the concept of heats and picking up on each others scent).  
If you know nothing about Omegaverse, this story probably isn't for you...  
Some stuff is non canon compliant by design, but I will point that out when we get to the chapters where it's of importance.  
If anything else feels off or if any further explanations are needed with the non canon compliant stuff, please let me know. 

As I am new to this and way, way out of my comfort zone, I really need some feedback here. Is it good? Is it bad? Please let me know...

The first three chapters are the character introduction so I would ask you to please give this story a chance until all characters have been introduced and the actual storyline gets underway.  


This is part one in a series of three.  
Part One - The game is rigged  
Part Two - The odds are never in our favor  
Part Three - The die is cast.  
Part One will consist of about 30 chapters, maybe a little more. 

  


I will post an overview of characters, places and timeframe now and the first chapter as soon as I am done with "How the other half lives".  
Please be patient.

Characters

Alphas  
\- Roger Federer  
\- Alexander Zverev  
\- Maribel Nadal

Betas  
\- Mirka Federer

Omegas  
\- Rafael Nadal  
\- Stefanos Tsitsipas  
\- Carlos Moya 

OCs  
\- Dr. Alvaro (beta)  
\- Anthea (omega)

Mentions of other characters and their status like the rest of the Zverev family, members of the Nadal family, Stefanos' siblings and others. 

Location

Mostly Paris (France), with mentions of Hamburg (Germany) and Barcelona (Spain).  
The flashbacks take us pretty much all over the place.

Timeline

Set in 2019 but with flashbacks to the years 2004 - 2008.


	2. Sascha

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, now I know I said it would be until "How the other half lives" is finished, before I would start this story, but I'm almost done with part one (only five chapters left to finish and hopefully I will get this done this weekend) and I decided to treat you to a first glimpse at the story.  
> Updates will be irregular though - sorry. 
> 
> As I said before, the first three chapters function as an introduction, so it will take until chapter four that all characters will have made an appearance and the story gets underway - so please bear with me and be patient.
> 
> As for anything related to Omegaverse - I did a little research but this is my first attempt at writing this and I made up a few things as I was going along with the story as well. Please point out to me if anything feels off... or if you need clarification with anything.  
> And please let me know what you think. It's a new AU and characters I have never written before, so I'm really nervous about this... 
> 
> Enough from me for now. Hope you like it!
> 
> <>°O°<>

*Hamburg - 2019*

They have been here at least half an hour... and nothing has happened. The room they are in is small, impersonal and smells distinctly of old paper and stale air. It's probably no different from any other room in the entire building and it is probably supposed to have this kind of effect on the people in it, but still the feeling of depression, of utter gloom and boredom is almost palpable. And this waiting game is simply annoying. At least in the last few minutes some movement has happened. An older man in a simple black attire – looking very much like an undertaker – has taken position by the high chair... and now a door in the back of the room opens and out steps the last missing member of this little group to complete the theater act of ridiculousness about to take place here. 

“Court calls the state versus Alexander Zverev.”

“Can't she do that herself? What does she need a spokesperson for?”

Sascha comments on the fact that the bailiff – or whoever else the guy in the black suit is – calls up his case instead of the judge herself. He leans in closer to his lawyer as he half says, half whispers the words to him. Obviously he is too loud, because the overpaid lawyer shushes him, like he is some little boy saying something inappropriate at the family dinner table and the judge raises her eyebrows at him. He already dislikes this female judge looking at him in that... unforgiving way, like he's some sort of insect that has had the audacity to fly in through a window and invade the privacy of her home. She very much looks like she doesn't want him here. Which is a perfect match – because he definitely doesn't want to be here. 

He shouldn't be here – that is the correct term to define this whole fucked up situation. There is no need for him to be here, he has done nothing wrong, but he is here anyway. Because one useless, impudent little breeding ground has stepped entirely out of line and has accused him of this ridiculous crime that has never been committed. Omegas are fucked by alphas. Omegas are meant to be fucked by alphas, and omegas are damn well not meant to complain about getting what they want and need... This whole case is a sick joke and weren't his time and his family's money wasted, he could actually laugh about it all.

The whole court case is probably rigged as well... Why else would he be here? His lawyer is definitely a beta, the bailiff is one too and the police officer who has had the audacity to come to his family's home and question him about the 'incident' had been a beta, too. An alpha in front of a court full of betas judged and tried for a crime he hasn't committed and being accused by an omega... Out of all the people here, he is the only damn alpha around... No wonder he cannot expect any kind of fair treatment...

None of these people can even remotely understand him... or live up to his standards for that matter.  
He's not exactly sure about the judge. He cannot detect any kind of smell from her and that is odd. Even betas give up a little bit of a scent. But with this one... nothing. Judging from her behavior she could be alpha. Judging from the way she still looks at him, she is omega. He can't tell like this. But taking a whiff seems like a tremendously bad idea. Sascha almost misses the woman's words as he is still deeply lost in his thoughts about the unfairness of his current situation.

“I see the defense attorney and the prosecutor have settled for a plea agreement?”

“That's correct your honor.”

“Mr. Zverev, please stand.”

Sascha doesn't want to stand, he doesn't want to do as he is being told by this woman he cannot place, cannot smell. He does – however – want her to know how much he dislikes being here. Unfortunately that isn't exactly an option and his stupid lawyer has already given him a warning glance. It's not until his attorney tugs at his sleeve that the boyish young man actually gets up looking very much displeased and annoyed and – as a matter of emphasis – crosses his arms in front of his chest. The judge frowns at him again before she continues, her voice cold and just a tad condescending.

“You understand that you're pleading guilty to the charge of misdemeanor disorderly conduct and the incitement to discrimination as well as sexual assault on a protected minority? And you further understand that by so doing you waive your right to a trial in front of a court of law?”

“I do understand all that, yes.”

Sascha doesn't even try to hide his displeasure and annoyance and above all else the boredom he feels at having been dragged to this pointless event. In truth, he understands none of it. He has no idea why charges have been brought up against him and why the joke of an investigation the local police has come up with has actually let to a court date. It's a fucking mystery to him... But apparently that is the wrong thing to say here today – his lawyer has instilled as much in him. The judge has already lost interest in him and is checking the file on the high desk in front of her and his lawyer springs into action again as the woman has a question about procedure. Figures that even the judge in this ludicrous case needs to ask twice about the details... 

“I see that Community Service is recommended.”

“Defense and prosecution believe that is the best course of action, your honor. There is no prior record, no other transgressions of any kind, no history of getting into trouble.”

“Twenty hours of Community Service? Do I read this right?”

“This was a misdemeanor, your honor. A somewhat... delicate indiscretion, granted, but it was a one time event, born out of mischief more than anything. Despite the facts of the charges, nobody has been physically hurt in the process, my client is duly remorseful, and I can assure you it will never happen again.” 

The judge is smiling – a small, entirely humorless smile – and then her attention is suddenly fully focused on Sascha again, who – for the first time since being here – loses a bit of his self-assurance. His heart actually seems to plummet a few inches. He definitely doesn't like the way this woman he still cannot get a read on is looking at him now. And he likes even less what she has to say to him. 

“Yes, I am sure that is what the defense would like the court to believe, portraying this as an indiscretion with no parties hurt. A youthful bit of mischief. But it is a criminal charge and there are laws for those kind of crimes committed. Now I take the law very seriously. And if there is one thing I have very little tolerance for, it's rich, privileged children viewing the world as their private playground and the people in it as pieces on a chess board to use as they please – especially when it comes to those protected under special discrimination laws. Now, Mr. Zverev, I don't care who you are. I don't care how entitled you feel or how much you believe you are in the right and this court is in the wrong, judging from that sour expression you have been wearing on your face ever since this case has been called. When you commit a crime, young man, there must be consequences. Period.”

The judge pauses – probably for dramatic effect or something – and by now Sascha has not only lost all self-assurance but pretty much all composure as well. Whatever this bitch has to tell him next, it cannot be good. By now he is sure the lack of a scent means she is omega and she is hiding her true nature. Of course he can only expect her to side with her own kind... and that is exactly what she does. That, however, certainly doesn't mean that Sascha is willing to accept any of what this ridiculous woman has to say to him. 

“Twenty hours of Community Service won't do it! I'm ordering five hundred hours of Community Service, to be completed in no more than six months. And one year's probation.”

“Wait, what?! What the hell is this?! This is not what we agreed on! 500 hours?! That's a full time job! And nobody said anything about a record!”

“Alexander, please...”

His lawyer tries to calm him, tries to get him to comply and be calm and conduct himself differently and Sascha feels about ready to punch the guy. The damn attorney acts like Sascha is the one who has done wrong here, while in truth he is the one who is being wrongfully punished. None of this can be happening and he very much expects a camera team and a grinning moderator to appear any second. Because this simply has to be a joke. But his lawyer is contrite and the judge is deadly serious in her approach. 

“Mr. Zverev, I need to ask you to calm down and restrain yourself. Now, assuming this is indeed a one-time occurrence, at the end of five years time you can petition the court to have this expunged from your record. For now I would highly advise you to sit back down and respect the court order that has been rendered. You may think this is some sort of outrageous trick being played on you, but I can assure you, this is a proper court of law and you are expected to act according to the integrity of this place and occasion.”

“The integrity of the occasion?! This is ridiculous! I didn't do anything wrong!”

Sascha gets another eyebrow raise and something flickers in the judges face. Something that looks very much like contempt and disgust. It is gone as soon as it has appeared and maybe he is just imagining things, but Sascha is sure he has seen it. It's an open invitation for defiance. The damn woman is baiting him and if that is what she wants, Sascha is more than willing to give it to her. Stupid omega bitch that she is!

“Now, I'm not duty bound to do so, but I'm happy to give you the opportunity to withdraw your plea and go to trial. If you do so you'll face additional felony charges. Given the undisputed facts and your own attitude towards this rather serious matter, I'd think very hard about that course of action.”

“What are you?”

“Excuse me?!”

The judge actually turns out to be quite the actress and manages to sound offended and just a little surprised at his question. She has to know what he is asking about and the fact that she doesn't want to tell him, tells Sascha everything he needs to know. Next to him his lawyer has visibly paled and the older man's voice is high-pitched and cracking as he hurries to assure the judge that Sascha has not meant any harm. The guy is wrong though – he has meant every last insulting word he has said here. 

“We are very sorry, your honor. Please excuse my client. He didn't meant to be blunt or rude.”

“I very much suspect he was being both, without even realizing it to add insult to injury.”

“We are truly very sorry, your honor.”

His lawyer is still making an effort to apologize on his behalf and get back on the judge's good side. To what end, Sascha has no idea. It's not like she can hurt him any more than she has already done. 500 hours of community service... That is about as bad as things could have gotten. And he is not willing to accept it – especially not from an omega hiding in plain sight in a respectable and powerful position.

“Come on! Why is that a blunt question? I mean I can usually smell it, but with her, there is just nothing. She's an omega on suppressants isn't she? Why else would she be this invested in this ridiculous farce?”

“You're only making matters worse for you, you are aware of that, aren't you?”

Sascha, who has not even tried to keep his voice down while arguing with his attorney, looks into the horrified face of the older man, who tries yet again to tell him to be careful. Sascha still sees no point in that and he certainly sees no point in giving up. He simply doesn't stop, cannot stop. Not until this judge has done right by him and as his attorney is being no help whatsoever, he addresses the female judge directly. 

“Now, look. I have no idea what is in those files of yours but it's definitely not the truth. All I did was bring two friends together, who both wanted to have sex. Maybe that seems delicate to you, but it was nothing more than a bit of mindless fun to blow off some steam. It was a mutual agreement, there was no harassment, no force, no discrimination. All I did was get two people together. How is introducing two people at a party a crime?!”

“As you waived your right to go to trial, there will be no further discussion of this matter. The court has reached a verdict and that verdict has been rendered. Case dismissed.”

The gavel, that has seemingly disappeared in the judges hand out of nowhere, lands on the wooden pat with a finality that makes Sascha wince and shuts him up rather effectively. The female judge is glaring at him for a moment longer before she gets up and turns her back on him. She has meant what she has said – the verdict has been rendered and Sascha is forced to abide by it. There is only one reaction truly worthy of the current situation and he has no consideration for either his lawyer or the retreating judge as he utters it.

“Fuck.”

121


	3. Stefanos

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know I said it would be a while, but here I am with the second introductory chapter.  
> Some specifics on the omega heat cycle in this one - I hope it all makes sense :?  
> Hope you like it :)
> 
> <>°O°<>

*Paris – that same morning*

Stefanos is eating – it's time for breakfast, only a couple of minutes past nine – and he is having a full spread of food - toast and eggs, cheese and meat, yogurt and fruit and above all else: coffee. It's his first proper meal in three days... and he feels like he could eat the whole damn spread and the table on top of it all. He feels famished – pretty much like he is starving. In many ways he is not too far from the truth. He hasn't eaten anything these last few days, hasn't been able to, and he has barely managed to keep hydrated. The only thing that has been on his mind these past few days is the overwhelming and very much painful urge to satisfy his most basic, instinctual need – which is to be fucked. Preferably hard and long and again and again.

It's one of those really repulsive aspects of his every day life since he has presented as an omega. The heat cycle... and the fact that he has decided not to give in to what those cycles are supposed to be for – procreating... and hours and hours of pure, meaningless, mindless, feral sex. He doesn't have a girlfriend, he doesn't want one at the moment and he definitely doesn't want an alpha right now. The last thing he needs in his life is somebody who feels the need to protect him, somebody he is supposed to subject to. He is intelligent, he is independent and he knows what he wants. An alpha in his life is not one of them.

He has been sidelined and very much surprised by the heat coming on this time and that is surprising in more ways than one. Usually he can rely on the timing like clockwork – once every 88 days, leaving him in this awful state at least four times a year. He has a calendar, keeps a close eye on the days passing by and of course he takes his suppressants to better calculate and time when he will have to go through the cycle the next time. Planning helps – planning makes him feel like he is in control. It's an illusion of course – his body betraying him in every way possible. But still Stefanos likes to cling to the illusion.

Going into heat is the same revolting process every time. First he feels like he has picked up the flu. He feels weak and tired, his joints ache and then that ache spreads to the rest of his body. It's usually only a few hours after that, that he starts to feel what can only be described as a fever. And then the... he starts to leak like there is no tomorrow. The first time it has happened, he has been sure he was sweating – because of the fever. He has long since learned that, in order to fulfill the need around which the whole heat cycle is built - which is fertility and conception – his body adapts and produces copious amounts of lubricant... to make the process easier for him.

Just that there is no process – not for him and his own physicality is on a constant, expecting high alert for days on end, waiting for an alpha to consume him and give him what he needs. An alpha that never comes... and his own body punishes him for the conscious decision made against his own instincts and physical desires deeply ingrained in his being because of his status as omega. He has security systems in place, contingency plans and safety nets... But still - no matter how many times he tries to tell himself that it is just hormones, that it is simply his body asking things of him that he will not give it and that it's a simple thing of mind over matter, he is never strong enough. He never manages.

The procedure is always the same for him. He returns to the safety of his home, calls in sick at work, prepares a couple bottle of waters and some easy to digest snacks on the bedside table, makes sure he has a copious amount of towels and washcloths within easy range, locks himself away and rides it out. Unplugging the phone is a big part of it too... This way he is never tempted to call anyone for help. Especially not an alpha. Being able to at least stick to that is one of the small mercies in that regard... 

Being mentally strong – to the extent he can manage – has it's downsides too of course, but Stefanos can live with those. Mainly he feels pain – even now that the worst is over and the cycle is almost complete. Everything hurts and that is as clear and defined of a statement as Stefanos can give about himself at the moment. He feels sore, especially when sitting for any prolonged period of time and he knows that is simply because he has made the conscious decision to stay by himself throughout the never-ending days it takes for his cycle to complete. 

Other than that he feels sort of... sticky, even though the lubricant his body still produces is way less than it has been throughout the last couple of days. It's not only that though, it is the heat the physical need causes, the symptoms of fever and copious sweating that always accompanies a heat cycle. The fact that he has barely been able to stand on his own two feet for the last three days and hasn't been able to so much as have a quick shower only adds to it. But now – on this first day he is mostly coherent again – he has acted according to his priorities... and food has been a first priority for him. Hopefully the lavish breakfast will leave him with enough energy to have that shower afterwards... and then he will try to go back to his normal every day life... until the next 88 days are over. 

He hates the heat, hates it with a passion, but there is nothing that can be done about it. It's a lot like women having her period and being sidelined by PMS or going through pains and other inconveniences like cramps or gastrointestinal problems while they go through those days of hormonal imbalance. The difference is, that the medication those women can take, dissipate or at least lessen some of the symptoms of their cycle. For him – and any other omega going into heat – the same courtesy and chance is not available.

And just like for any fertile woman going through a hard time whenever they have their period, there is no chance to simply have a minimally invasive procedure and get himself sterilized. He has talked to doctors about this before. But they have all told him the same thing. No doctor in the world will sterilize a fertile woman – or fertile omega for that matter – without any proper medical reason. And with him there is no proper medical reason.

He could ask for help, he knows that. Hell, there are people he knows and trusts that would never ever take advantage of him in his current situation. They would not judge, they would not think any less of him. He has learned to trick his body – with the help of appropriate... toys and the use of a pheromone spray mimicking the scent of a dominant alpha. It works most of the time, helps to get the excruciating urge his body feels for release under control. But even then those days are awful and when it's all over it leaves him with an aching longing deep inside his guts and an exhaustion so severe, he usually sleeps through a day and a half when the cycle is finally complete. 

One of his friends, a friend just like him, has once called it an 'impressive collection'. It's not something Stefanos finds any humor in, because none of this is funny. It's a damn necessity and he feels... embarrassed every time he thinks about this. He is an independent, strong, intelligent young man and he should be better than this... But he is not, not on a day like today. On a day like today he is reduced to a quivering mess, trembling with the need of his sexual arousal... and he hates every last second of it.

Mercifully it never lasts too long. Five days is his usual average. That is five days every three months he is no use to anybody. But even the exhaustion and the longing, the soreness and the fact that he is unable to leave the house for days on end are all better than the humiliation of submitting himself to somebody else's mercy. He doesn't want that – no matter the consequences and the physical discomfort. He wants to be normal... or as normal as things can get for him. If it were up to him, he would be a regular guy, a normal beta with a girlfriend and a sex life that is not defined by barely controllable urges every three months...

Maybe it would be easier were he not the only member of his closest family, who has presented as omega. His brother Pavlos and both his parents, they are all betas. His sister is yet too young to tell. But his other brother – Petros – the one he has always been closest to, has presented as an alpha just a little over year ago... It has changed the dynamic between them, has changed the way they feel about one another... or maybe it has not. They never really talk about these kind of things, because Stefanos doesn't want to talk about them. But he feels Petros is treating him differently these days. Not as much respect, but more of a protective streak. Because his brother is an alpha... and Stefanos is not. 

Part of this protective streak is that his brother calls – constantly and even more frequently when he knows his older brother is going through a rough time, like during the heat cycle. Stefanos hates it when his brother calls to ask how he is. It is just over the phone, but to Stefanos it always feels like he can practically smell his brother's concern... and he can smell what he is... Or not – maybe he is just imagining the deeply satisfying smell of an alpha when his brother calls right before or right after a cycle is completed. It's very confusing... and the calls are never much appreciated. Stefanos has told his brother as much, but it seems it's yet another of those instinctual things. His brother – his alpha brother – doesn't listen to him, especially not in his most vulnerable state of being omega. 

Of course, this morning is no different from any other morning at the end of a cycle. His brother does call him while he is on his third piece of toast and his second cup of coffee. Stefanos puts him on speaker. He needs to eat. Holding a phone and trying to devour his breakfast are simply too much to coordinate for him right now. His brother doesn't even wait for Stefanos to say so much as hello. He jumps right into the conversation and just like every other time since he has presented, concern is practically dripping from his voice.

“Hey, Stef... Finally... I have been trying to reach you for days now! You haven't picked up the phone even once!”

“I couldn't. You know that.”

Stefanos never uses the word heat or cycle or any other idiom that pertains to what he is going through. He doesn't want to talk about this. It's bad enough with friends that are omegas just like him. But it is worse with family and it is the worst with his alpha brother, who seems completely oblivious to his discomfort. At least Petros has the decency and empathy to pick up on the fact that his older brother doesn't want an in-depths-conversation about his last few – excruciatingly exhausting – days right now. Petros line of questioning stays sort of vague and Stefanos appreciates it. 

“Are... are you better now? Is it over?”

“Not completely, but almost.”

“Good. That's... good, right?”

“Yes, it's good.”

His brother doesn't mean to be oblivious. After all they are all educated in school about alphas and omegas and what the respective status means for the people presenting as such. Petros especially has never taken much of any interest in learning more about this kind of stuff. He has yet to be confronted with an omega in heat, has yet to feel the urges Stefanos goes through in periodic cycles and the last thing he wants for his younger brother is to lose those last remnants of innocence he still clings to. So Stefanos keeps his replies taciturn and his brother changes the subject. 

“Have you eaten?”

“I'm on it right now. No need to worry.”

“I have no control over it, you know that.”

“Yeah, poor you.”

Stefanos can't help his cynical and slightly dismissive reaction. Petros sounds uncomfortable admitting to the fact that he can't help the protective streak taking him over whenever he talks to his brother – especially after heat. But Stefanos is itching and sore and hurting in places he shouldn't be hurting in. He simply has no strength or patience left to come up with empathy for his alpha brother, who cannot even begin to fathom how he feels. Unfortunately Petros' alpha nature makes him both dominant and aggressive pretty much immediately after being told off. And his instinctual reaction is to put his omega brother into place.

“No need to be bitchy...”

“Don't ever call me that again!”

Stefanos practically yells – white hot anger blinding him – the second the word 'bitch' leaves his brother's mouth. Petros doesn't mean to, somewhere deep down where his logical mind still reigns Stefanos knows that. But being called that, being insulted like that lets his emotions overtake Stefanos. A bitch male – that is the crude, insulting way to call any omega. Because in the end – especially with narrow minded alphas – that is exactly what they are, what they are reduced to. A bitch to be fucked... And that is the last thing Stefanos wants for his younger brother to feel about him. 

He knows that on the other end of the line instinct is fighting against rationality and a lifelong bond build between them, as Petros tries to go against what his alpha nature tells him and remember that he isn't talking to any omega right now, but to his older brother. In the end feelings win over instinct and Petros apologizes for his thoughtless words... though it's not exactly a very nice apology. And just like his brother, Stefanos is having a hard time fighting down his own instincts – instincts that tell him to be submissive towards the alpha on the other end of the line. In the end they both settle for a stale compromise. 

“Jeez... I'm sorry, okay? I didn't mean it like that.”

“I know. I'm sorry... I'm just... still a little oversensitive I guess...”

“Yeah, tell me about it... You going back to work today?”

“I'll try.”

“Be careful.”

“Always am.”

They end the call, and Stefanos can't help but feel coddled. Then again Petros has every right and reason to remind him to be careful. He has a bad track record with his heat cycles... it's part of the stubbornly rational person that he is. Sometimes it has him make bad choices. Like once before – when he has decided to go back to work, back to the Foundation while his cycle had not been completely over – and Stefanos knows better than to ever do that again. He has barely managed to walk two blocks from his apartment before the first alpha had gotten a whiff of him... 

Things had turned from bad to worse from there on out. Because just like he is unable to control his needy, quivering, self-lubricating body in heat, no alpha out there that hasn't had lots and lots of experience or is bonded to his own omega, is able to withstand the lure of the pheromones the scent of an omega contains. In the end, Stefanos has practically fled back to the safety of his apartment... barely avoiding being cornered and taken advantage of against his will. It's been a near miss – one he never wants a repeat of ever again.

This whole thing is embarrassing and fucking demeaning and humiliating every time it happens. It's like a dog blinded by hormones, presenting to anyone and everyone in sight... It is pretty close to what it really is and even though it is supposed to be natural, Stefanos hates what he is. Because he feels limited this way. He is more than just an animal acting on instinct. The whole process is kind of revolting to him, no matter how many times people – friends and family and whoever else knows about his status and feels the need to comment on it – assure him it is perfectly normal.

He knows it would be easier if he simply decided to give in and find an alpha to bond with... or at least somebody willing and emphatic enough to help him through. But that is simply not who he is... or ever will be. He believes in the power of his mind, the power of rational thinking and he will subject himself to the same kind of pain and aching longing time and again if that is what it takes. It's awful and he hates it, but it is the only viable option for him. So, clinging to the fact that he has managed to outwit his body and stay strong through yet another cycle - that is about as pleasant as a heat can ever get for him...


	4. Rafa and Roger

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All main characters are introduced with this chapter.  
> (There will be more, but minor characters in the next one).  
> Updates will take time from now on, as it says in the summary, please be patient.
> 
> <>°O°<>

*Miami – 2005*

The world is back on it's axis and Roger can't help but feel happy about it. More than being happy, he feels content. It's the alpha nature guiding him, that makes him feel like he has only gotten what he rightfully deserves, he is aware of that. But even from a non-instinctual point of view he can't help but feel that the match he has won today, has taken a predetermined course and that the same match against the same opponent a year ago, has only been some sort of glitch.

Somewhere deep down Roger feels just a tiny bit... sorry about the fact that Rafa has to get over the loss Roger has dealt him just now. He feels sad for the younger man and he knows he shouldn't. He's sure Rafa hasn't felt sorry for him a year ago. Winning and losing is part of the game, part of the sport after all. But there is no denying that Roger doesn't feel about Rafa the same way he feels about his other fellow players. Rafa... intrigues him. 

He remembers seeing Rafa at Wimbledon in 2003 – the scrawny, small boy with a mop of unruly hair and an inability to look any of the more popular and well-known players on the ATP tour in the eyes for a prolonged period of time, before forcing a small, shy smile on his face and casting his eyes down. When Roger had seen the young man – the teenage boy – again, less than a year later in Miami in 2004, the... transformation had been... stunning.

Rafa is still 17, still a teenager when they meet again in Miami in 2004 and play their first match against one another. But he looks nothing like the lost boy Roger remembers. He has grown, not a lot but at least another inch or two, and he has gained quite a bit of muscle mass. He doesn't look scrawny any more, not even a little, but the mop of unruly hair and the boyish features are still somewhat present.

Being confronted with the change, Roger has been sure the younger man has presented over the course of the last eight months and he is just as sure that the teenager has presented as alpha. It's the only way to explain the change Rafa has gone through. But when they meet at the net after the boy has managed to win the better of Roger – and the match as well in the process – he cannot smell it. He doesn't smell much of anything. The boy has barely any scent to himself at all. 

He must be beta – that is what Roger can deduce from what little of a whiff he gets from the younger man, all sweaty and excited about the win – and that strikes the Swiss as kind of odd. With the way Rafa has changed, has grown out of the boy and into the adolescent male he is now, him being beta is not what Roger has expected. It doesn't seem to fit... but then again there are exceptions to every rule. Not every alpha is aggressive, over-sized and muscular. And not every omega is small, timid and submissive. Rafa is just an odd duck... and that seems kind of fitting for the younger man.

Now – a year later – Roger has rectified the upset Rafa has managed to gain on him the last time they have competed against one another here. He feels good about himself, feels good about his achievements and he actually has a spring in his step when he returns to the locker room after his on-court interview to take a shower and then head off to the inevitable press conference. Rafa – of course – has already left the court a little while ago and Roger expects to bump into him as the younger man is on his way out to his own press responsibilities after the lost match. Maybe he can tell the Spaniard once again, how good of a match he has played and how much Roger has enjoyed the competition.

Surprisingly enough, Rafa is still at the locker room and has – apparently – only just left the showers when Roger steps into the room. The younger man has a towel wrapped around his waist, water is still dripping from his hair down his back and he is barefooted and about ready to pull a shirt from his bag when something hits Roger. Something is off about Rafa, something Roger has never detected about him before. He takes a deep breath and frowns. It's not the fact that Rafa is half naked or unaware of his presence... The younger man smells... wrong – different from before. Roger sniffs again and utters his assessment without thinking, causing Rafa to flinch and abruptly turn around in the process. 

“You... Something is different about you...”

“Mierda...”

Rafa curses – profoundly and passionately – something Roger has never heard the younger man do before. Mainly Rafa seems frantic and very much scared of the older man's presence. He holds on tightly to the towel protecting his modesty, which seems kind of odd as Rafa is usually rather... free in the display of his own physicality when he is in the locker room at a tournament side. And instead of going for a pair of shorts or a shirt to cover himself, he grabs something from his bag that looks a lot like a bottle of body spray or something.

Roger is too curious to not interject. He wants to know what the younger man has there and he wants to know what this strange feeling that has settled in the depth of his gut is that tells him something is off about Rafa right here and now. Before the younger man can use whatever is inside the bottle, Roger has stepped up to him and has actually grabbed a hold of the younger man's wrist. He knows he is entirely out of line and he has no right to invade Rafa's privacy like this, but he does it anyway.

“What have you got there? What is that?”

Roger actually snatches the bottle from Rafa's hands – instinct driving his reactions instead of common sense and decency and for some very odd reason the younger man doesn't fight him on it. The bottle doesn't have a label or any other identifying marks on it, so Roger does the only other thing he can think of to discern what is going on here and what the content of the mystery bottle is. He sniffs... and frowns.

“Beta... this smells like... beta.”

Something stirs deep inside of Roger – a realization his functional, logical brain simply doesn't want to allow to sink in. But it is the only explanation for what he holds in his hands here, for the deception he is witness to. The spray bottle momentarily forgotten, Roger lets it drop to the bench in front of the row of lockers carelessly and steps a little closer to the younger man. Rafa doesn't flinch, doesn't move back but simply stares at him wide eyed and pale and with a soft tremble to his hands. The Spaniard smells... clean – of shampoo and shower gel and... something else. Roger frowns at first and then his own eyes widen as he realizes what the underlying smell is Rafa has just wanted to hide with the help of the contents of that spray bottle.

“You... you're...”

“Please, Roger! You can no tell anyone!”

Finally Rafa shakes himself out of the trance he seems to have been in until now, as Roger is about to say out loud, what it is he has detected about the younger man. Rafa shakes his head vehemently and his voice is cracking, the words tumbling out of his mouth thick with accent and emotion and barely making any sense as he pleads with Roger not to say what he is about to say. But it is too late. The Swiss barely even listens to him and understands even less of what Rafa is trying to get him to do. The words are out before he ever has a chance to stop himself.

“You're omega...”

Rafa stills and stands there like a salt figure, like not moving could actually make Roger forget all about him and the truth he has just found out about the younger man. Moisture is glistening in the younger man's eyes and there is a soft tremble in his lips, that tells the Swiss all too clearly Rafa is on the verge of losing a desperate fight against his own emotions. He manages – manages to calm himself and win the better of his swirling thoughts and feelings and when he confirms what Roger already knows, his voice sounds hollow and defeated. 

“Si.”

“How... how can you be omega?! How did I never notice this before?! And how can you look like that being what you are?”

Roger knows he is being both condescending and just a little demeaning. But this – this revelation about Rafa – it changes everything. Suddenly Roger no longer feels happy for his win. He feels sorry for the grief he has caused the younger man. He feels the need to take Rafa's sorrow away, the need to help him. All at the same time, the sting about last year's loss gets infinitely more profound for Roger. He has lost to the Spaniard. He – an alpha – has lost to an omega. That shouldn't be happening. It shouldn't be possible. Rafa is omega... He never should have won the better of Roger! The Swiss barely realizes that Rafa is talking again but he tries to tune in on what the younger man has to say in his defense. As it turns out it isn't defense at all but an explanation, and Roger can't help but snap at the fact that Rafa feels no need to apologize to him – the alpha right in his face – for his chicanery.

“I work very hard. I try to hide, I try to be strong and I practice and improve a little every day.”

“You were hiding!”

“Si. But is okay. Is no crime.”

Judging from the expression on Rafa's face, the younger man isn't exactly sure of his own words. With Roger in his face like that, he has to feel like he has done something wrong. Despite instinct telling him otherwise, Roger tries his best to calm himself and be rational about all this. He has just detected what is probably Rafa's biggest secret. He knows the younger man more intimately than any other player on the tour. And he doesn't want to ruin that. He simply wants to understand what has driven the younger man to lie.

“I never said it was a crime. I simply... I cannot believe this... I mean look at you! You look nothing like an omega.”

“I have to. To... fit in, no? This way nobody question me about this before. Only you. Now.”

Rafa has that defeated tone to his voice again and actually casts his eyes down at the statement that he has been found out by Roger – a fellow player and alpha on top of it all. Roger is acutely aware of the younger man's discomfort... and of the fact that Rafa is still pretty much naked standing there in front of him with his head hanging all compliant and submissive and adorable. Roger swallows hard, forces himself to take a tiny step back and take in shallow breaths. The last thing he wants for either of them is to fall prey to his own instincts. He wants to make sense of this. 

“Why would you do this? I mean you're obviously talented and very passionate about tennis. Why not just tell the truth?”

“No omegas in sport.”

It's a simple statement and despite the very obvious effort it takes, Rafa manages to look at Roger again, a small, sad smile playing on his lips for the briefest of seconds. Roger can't help but huff at the statement. He has heard it being said about a million times before, but he has never put much stock into that saying. Granted, Rafa is the ONLY omega Roger has ever smelled on the tour... But then again, who knows how many of their other, fellow players are hiding in plain sight with the help of medication and other deceptions just like Rafa has done?

“That is your justification? That's ridiculous! Almost like 'no gays in the military'...”

“Not gay. Omega.”

He sounds sad – unbelievably so and Roger is well aware of the fact that he can never understand. He knows little to nothing about the dynamics, physical layout and mindset of an omega in his every day life. What little he does know has been taught to him in school and that has been quite a while ago. He rarely ever has any dealings with omegas... Actually Rafa is the first one in months, if not years. What Roger does know for a fact, is that Rafa is right. Not every male omega is gay... But they are what they are and hiding it seems like a tremendously stupid idea to Roger. Then again – how would he know? He has always been privileged with the state he was born into. He is alpha after all... But that doesn't mean Rafa has to hide from him or anyone for that matter. His true nature is simply what it is. 

“Who ever said that was a bad thing?”

“You. You hate me before today.”

The accusation – though Rafa sounds very much matter-of-factly – hangs in the room between them for a long moment, as Roger tries to make sense of the Spaniard's words. He is pretty sure Rafa's grasp of the English language has failed him and he has said something he hasn't meant to say. How could he ever believe Roger would hate him? He has been nothing but friendly and polite with the younger man. Maybe he has said some... nit-picky things about Rafa in a press conference or two, but he has never meant it as an insult. He definitely has never felt negatively about the younger man. Rafa has his facts wrong and Roger shakes his head no at him in reply. 

“I never hated you. I could never hate you.”

“You say that now only because of scent. It make you... loco...”

Rafa's at a loss for words but even with just a basic understanding of the Spanish language, Roger grasps what the younger man is trying to tell him. He doesn't agree with Rafa though and quite frankly the younger man is pretty pretentious – especially for an omega. He has no right to even assume his smell is something special to Roger. If that were the case, they wouldn't still be standing here talking to one another. Roger is very well able to control himself. What he cannot do is make sense of why today – unlike any other time before, even after a shower – he has picked up on Rafa's omega scent.

“I'm not going crazy over your scent! But it is different... Why is it different? I mean I have been close to you after showers before and you were nowhere near a bottle of body spray then. Why didn't I smell it then?”

“I have no medicine. I run out. And here they not allow medicine like this. Not for omegas...”

Roger feels something shift painfully deep inside his gut. This is the U.S. and as liberal and advanced as some of their laws pertaining to omegas are, they do not allow heat suppressants or hormone blockers to hide scent as they do in Europe. So Rafa – who has quite obviously miscalculated his needs for this trip – has tried to use the next best thing. But the pheromone spray has not outlasted the match and the shower the teenager has taken and that is the only reason Roger knows the truth now.

“Oh... But you had medication before? Suppressants?”

“Si.”

“You shouldn't take that stuff. It's dangerous... harmful even.”

Rafa gives him a strange look in response to Roger's statement and the Swiss cannot help but feel a little embarrassed. He doesn't really know much of anything about the medication available for omegas out there. What he does know is mainly half truths and common knowledge. Rafa probably knows best – after all he has to deal with this on a daily basis. The younger man doesn't tell him off or correct him though, but merely shrugs his shoulders at Roger before picking up the dropped spray bottle from the bench again and applying a first spray to his chest and midsection. Immediately, his scent changes and Roger cannot detect the smell of an omega on the younger man any more. Rafa smiles at him again – that same sad, defeated and very much resigned smile.

“Have to. No omegas in sport.”

*#*

*Paris – present day*

A hand on his shoulder that is definitely not Rafa's pulls Roger from the scene in the locker room and he opens his eyes. 'Opens his eyes'... He has been dreaming, he realizes. The scene he has just been a part of has happened 14 years ago and it is nothing but a distant memory now. He sits up in bed and realizes the hand on his shoulder, that has woken him from his dream, belongs to his wife. She is still standing beside the bed looking at him with mild concern as she talks to him now and Roger immediately tries to deflect. Mirka doesn't like it when he reminisces... especially not about Rafa. 

“You mumbled in your sleep... Are you okay?”

“Yes. Just a dream.”

Mirka raises her eyebrows at him and Roger is pretty sure he has been found out. He could put her in his place if he wanted to. She is beta after all and if he really tried, instinct would tell her to back down. But just like in his memory about Rafa, he has never really liked to use his instincts as an alpha against any person of another, lower status than his. It's simply not what he does. Mirka – who in turn cannot help the jealousy he feels when her husband is dreaming about another man and an omega at that – crosses her arms in front of her chest. 

“Rafa again?”

“How would you...”

Mirka doesn't say anything but simply looks at his midsection rather pointedly. There is a noticeable bulge underneath the blanket and Roger can't help but feel just a little embarrassed. Usually he is better able to hide his feelings – and any physical reaction – away. But this is different, because this pertains to the only omega he has ever felt a special connection to. They have never exactly been bonded. His relationship – and subsequent marriage – with Mirka has made matters too complicated for that. But they have been more than friends, a lot more. It's simple really – Rafa has been his... and now he is not anymore.

“Oh... Yes. Rafa.”

“You should probably calm down before you come downstairs. Wouldn't want to have to explain that to the kids...”

“I'm sorry.”

“There's no need, Roger. You know that. It's natural... even after all those years.”

There's a mildly condescending tone to her voice and – not for the first time in their relationship – Roger suspects his wife to actually be an alpha hiding herself away with the help of suppressants. Just like Rafa has done but the other way around... It's ridiculous of course. Children never would have been possible in that case... and they have been difficult enough to conceive already. But still, sometimes she is way too dominant with him for her own good... He doesn't mind though, but he does feel the urge to explain his rather pronounced physical reaction. 

“It's not just any occasion, Mirka. You know that. The anniversary is today.”

“I know...”


	5. Maribel and Carlos

*Paris – that same morning*

Maria Isabel Nadal – Maribel for her friends and colleagues – hates this day. She hates it with a passion and even though the date comes around once every year and she knows it will, she feels miserable... and mostly angry every last time. She has debated taking time off work but it's not going to help her either. Sitting at home all day with nothing else but her own, gloomy thoughts to keep her company, is not helpful either. At least at work she can concentrate on something else... if her colleagues let her. Unfortunately she isn't exactly in luck. But then again on a day like today, she doesn't expect to.

It is the 11th anniversary of her brother's disappearance this year and even after more than a decade, it still hurts. Not only the fact that he is no longer a part of her life, but mainly the uncertainty of it all, the very fact that neither she nor any of his friends or family or even the damn authorities have any clue what exactly has happened to him. Rafa has simply disappeared – from one day to the next – like the earth has opened up and swallowed him whole... 

Working for the foundation – for a charity organization dedicated to fighting for the rights of omegas, rescuing them from human trafficking rings and brothels and abusive alphas and giving them a place to stay, helping them with their needs – both physically and mentally – seemed like the perfect way to honor her brother's memory. The fact that the charity is named after her brother is an added bonus. The fact that her brother's alpha is the one to have initiated it all is a thorn in her side she has learned to live with.

They are comprised of three different branches inside the organization. The administrative branch - taking donations, organizing functions, planning the missions for the response team, taking calls and doing paperwork - the clinic, and the safe house. Roger is mostly taking care of the administrative business while Mari is head and director of the safe house. They rarely ever see each other – not if she can help it. Today however she will be out of luck. Apart from the fact that it is the 11th anniversary of her brother going missing, it is also the second Wednesday of the month... which means all department heads are meeting in administration today. That includes her... and Roger.

In order to get through any of this, she needs coffee. Her morning hasn't exactly been inspiring up to this point and a headache is already starting to built. Hopefully a freshly brewed cup of coffee will help with that... She is on her way to the employee's kitchen, when she detects a familiar face at the far end of the corridor. Her first instinct tells her to turn and hide. Because she will most definitely be probed about her feelings and coddled because of her delicate state of mind on this special day. She can do without either of those. But the kitchen is that way... Mari takes a deep breath and walks down the corridor all determination and forced will.

“Morning, Carlos.”

“Mari, I was looking for you. You look a little pale... How are you today?”

It has taken less than 30 seconds for the older man – and former professional tennis player, Grand Slam champion and inhabitant of the same Mediterranean island as she and her missing brother – to pry into her personal life. It's always somewhat stunning to her how an omega male like Carlos manages to talk to her – an alpha female – without any reluctance or reservation. Maybe it is the fact that he has known her from a very young age, before she ever presented, or maybe it is the fact that Carlos has years of experience in dealing with alphas way more aggressive and renitent than her. Either way, Mari doesn't like his questions and she tries her best to deflect. 

“I'm fine, Carlos. Just another day at the office.”

“How about some coffee then? Sounds like a perfect way to start an office day, don't you think?”

She smiles and nods, unable to shake the feeling that Carlos has read her mind just there and then. Then again the older man knows her for almost all of her life, knows her since her brother was very young and she even younger. Being aware of her need for coffee in the morning is only one of the things he is very much aware of when it comes to her. She definitely shouldn't be surprised. They walk the rest of the way to the kitchen, where Mari settles at the table and Carlos gets them two cups of coffee, milk and sugar for him, only milk for her, before settling opposite of her and trying for another smile and yet more probing questions. Yet again Mari decides deflection is the best course of action.

“So, how are you really?”

“Well... I didn't have breakfast this morning because I woke up late, something is wrong with the water pressure in my apartment - so I had a very drizzly and very disappointing shower - and then I came here to find the mess hall in complete chaos, none of the people assigned for clean up anywhere in sight, and I had to break up a fight between three overly hormonal teenage boys fighting over who gets the upper bunk bed in their shared room...”

“You know... you could compel them into compliance.”

Carlos is wearing a sardonic and mildly mischievous smile on his face as he suggests that line of action to Maribel. It is only half a joke, but then again being sarcastic and just a little fatalistic is their way of dealing with the horrors they are confronted with on a daily basis. Yes, they are doing a good deed here and working for the charity is rewarding, but it also puts them in the line of a lot of suffering and misery... Sometimes joking about it is the only way to stay sane. In the end, Carlos' suggestion is impractical. Yes, Mari would very well be able to use her status as alpha to get the boys to give in to what she wants. But this is not something she would ever do. She has sworn herself not to, not even in dire circumstances. She will never harm any omega – not if she can help it. 

“Don't give me any ideas. Anyway – it's not how we get things done around here. Around here we are all equal...”

“Yeah, some more than others.”

“Don't be coy, Carlos. It doesn't suit you.”

The older man gives a sound somewhere between a groan and a huff. It's not like Maribel is wrong. Being this sarcastic isn't usually his style. But then again it has been a tough morning for him and it is a tough day as well. Unlike with Maribel, Rafa hasn't been family to him. But he has been a good friend, a protege sort of... Carlos has known the younger man for a long, long time... and he misses him, just like Mari misses him. That however is not a conversation he wants to have with the younger woman right now. It will only end in tears. Instead he smiles again and tries to get her to open up to him.

“I'll try to keep that in mind. So... How are you holding up today?”

“As I just said - all in all it has not been a good morning.”

“You know I didn't mean that.”

“Do you want me to compel _you_ into compliance?”

Mari says it jokingly but there is a barely veiled threat behind her words. She might not ever use the fact that she is an alpha to her advantage with any of the omegas in her charge. But Carlos is not in her charge, he is not helpless, he is not mentally unstable or in need of medical or psychological attention. With him, things are different. But of course it's more of a joke than anything. She simply wants Carlos to understand that this discussion is over now. She is fine, she can deal on her own and she doesn't need him to butt into her personal life. She is fine all by herself... and Carlos gets it. 

“No, thank you.”

“I just don't want to talk about it... How was your morning?”

“Depressing. The response team returned from Croatia early this morning.”

Carlos sounds absolutely devastated telling her about the team's return and Mari feels her stomach tie into cold hard knots at the mention of them. She has only been vaguely aware of their mission, but whenever the response team is send to a location somewhere around Europe, they usually return with some sort of horror story and at least half a dozen traumatized omegas for the medical facility to take care of and for her to house once they are ready. It seems they have their work cut out for them these next couple of weeks.

“What's the head count?”

“Six new patients, all of them traumatized, two of them in critical condition.”

“A trafficking ring?”

“No. A brothel.”

Mari swears under her breath and a soft smile flashes across her face for just a split second as the thought occurs to her that her brother would probably be blushing if he could hear her right now. But there is nothing else she can do but swear when being confronted with news such as this. Abusive alphas are bad, trafficking rings are worse but so called fertility clinics and brothels keeping omegas captive and in a constant state of heat to sell them to the highest bidder, those are the worst. If she had the chance, Mari would wipe them all out in one large swoop.

“Damn... Will they be alright?”

“Physically – eventually, yes. Mentally... no idea. We'll do our best. As we always do.”

Mari nods and they fall silent as they finish their coffees. Afterwards Mari decides to accompany Carlos to the medical facility. She doesn't really know why she does it. It's not like there is anything positive to gain from the visit. But she feels... responsible and that responsibility tells her she has to go see the people the response team has brought back into their care. She can handle it... or at least that is what she believes. But even with the warning Carlos has given her and knowing what she is getting herself into. It hurts to do it.

They go to the regular unit first, where the four omegas without any critical injuries are being treated. They all share a room – they have found keeping the traumatized together works best like this – and they are all asleep right now. They have been cleaned up, but they are all pale – probably not having seen any real sunlight in months or even years, they are bruised and cut up and all four of them are malnourished and dehydrated.

The two omegas in the critical care unit are even worse of – as is to be expected. They look like shriveled corpses, pale and unmoving on hospital beds that seem way too large for them, gaunt and emaciated to the bone. They are on a diverse number of IV medication, their breathing is aided by a ventilator and what little of their vital signs is actually working in a halfway sensible order is being monitored by different machines. From what little Carlos can tell her, one of the two of them has obviously been tortured... an alpha with special taste, which is not that uncommon in their line of work. The other one has been pregnant... and has miscarried without anyone taking proper care of him. Chances of survival are low for both of them. Mari feels the painful prickling of tears as she looks at them, staring at them without ever taking her eyes of them as she speaks to Carlos now – voice breaking.

“You know, it's times like this when I... never mind.”

“Go ahead and talk to me, kid. It's okay.”

“It's just... having victims like this, I can only hope my brother... is not going through something like this... I know it's heartless and despicable and wrong of me to even think that way, but if THAT is the alternative, I rather wish he was dead...”

Carlos never once says anything to defy or counter her opinion. He can't, she knows. He can't, because he feels exactly the same way. Eve more than she is, Carlos has to deal with the brunt of what those tortured souls, those mistreated omegas go through. He does it willingly and most of the time he is happy for the chance to help. But sometimes – especially on days like today – it is all too much. But he cannot tell that to Maribel. The younger woman is having an awful day already and he doesn't need to add to that burden. Instead Carlos places a hand on the younger woman's shoulder and smiles at her.

“Maybe we'll find out one day.”

“Yes. Maybe...”

They are interrupted by steps in the corridor, and both of them take their eyes off the injured and possibly dying omegas and face the woman walking up to him. Maribel gives a deeply displeased sound. The woman in her neat skirt and blouse with a clipboard in her hands is Roger's wife Mirka, and she looks like nothing – none of the misery happening left and right of her – is affecting her in any way. She addresses Carlos, keeps her focus mostly on him, and only acknowledges Maribel's presence out of courtesy more than anything. The exchange between the two women is cold... and that is putting it mildly.

“Carlos, good morning. I need you to... Oh. Hello, Maribel.”

“Mirka.”

“Carlos, I have a shipment of medical supplies as ordered by Dr. Alvaro. Can you sign for them?”

“Yes sure.”

Mirka holds out the clipboard with the delivery papers for Carlos to sign and never once looks at Maribel again. Her attention is solely fixed on Carlos' hand moving on the paper and when he is done and gives the clipboard back to her, she gives Carlos a nod and a curt smile before she turns and leaves, walking down the corridor the same way she has come. Mari barely waits until the older woman is out of earshot before she gives a displeased groan yet again. Carlos picks up on it and judging from his tone of voice, he doesn't blame or judge her one bit.

“You really hate her.”

“I don't hate her. I just... I can't stand her.”

It's not much of a difference, Mari is very well aware of that. But she definitely doesn't hate Mirka Federer. Emotions of any kind are too good for either of the Swiss couple. They don't deserve her feelings, they don't deserve for her to care. They have broken her family apart and have ruined her life... and for that she will never forgive either of them. Obviously her hatred and disdain shows all too clearly on her face... probably radiates off of her in waves and is detectable in the scent she gives off. Carlos being the balanced one, and the person in need of harmony that he is, tries to interject on the couples' behalf. But just like his probing, Mari doesn't want to hear any of it. 

“Your brother's disappearance is not her fault. Or Roger's for that matter...”

“Let's not have that discussion again, okay? We'll never see eye to eye on it.”

“He wasn't even there, Mari...”

Carlos tries again, and this time it is just too much. It's not about Carlos being omega and her being alpha. It is about the fact that they are friends and that she has clearly told Carlos not for the first time today that she doesn't want to talk about her brother and his disappearance – not today, not any day. But Carlos simply doesn't stop. And just this one time Mari does what she has threatened to do just a little while earlier. She uses who and what she is and tries to force the older man into compliance.

“He should have been! He was my brother's alpha! Rafa was his responsibility! And instead he went traipsing somewhere around the world, sulking over a lost final and leaving my brother to fend for himself. And if that wasn't bad enough already, he took less than a year after my brother disappeared to not only marry that... that... substitute AND have a set of rug rats with her!”

“The children weren't exactly his idea, you know that.”

The children... Mari huffs again. That is another can of worms she does NOT want to open. She knows – logically – that none of that is Roger's fault and she also knows Mirka has reacted out of some motherly instinct and the fact that her own biological clock has told her to reproduce. But the conception of those children is just another red flag for Mari that she cannot go anywhere near without losing her composure. Being confronted with it now, she feels she manages quite admirably... despite the hateful tone of her words. 

“Yeah, which is why she is here in the first place. She doesn't care for the organization, for what we do here. She couldn't care less about traumatized and exploited omegas. She has never once been in contact with anyone at the clinic or the group home. She simply does paperwork. Because she feels she needs to make things up to her husband.”

“Well, she does. Going behind his back like this with the pregnancy was... not okay.”

“He should have left her then.”

“You know it's not that easy. After what happened to your brother... Roger was lost, adrift. Mirka was his anchor.”

“Good for him.”

“Mari...”

She doesn't want to hear this – not any of it, not for a second longer. Carlos can defend both Mirka and Roger all he wants, but Mari knows for a fact that she will never change her mind about those two. Roger has left her brother to fend for himself out of spite and injured pride in the moment Rafa had needed him most and Mirka was most definitely happy her brother was out of the picture and she had Roger all to herself without any competition. She will never forgive them – neither Roger for not living up to his responsibilities nor Mirka for the cold-hearted calculation she has portrayed ever since Rafa had been out of the picture. And she will not defend her feelings to Carlos. She has better things to do with her time. 

“I have work to do. See you later.”


	6. Staff meeting

Roger knows he shouldn't feel this way, but he is absolutely not looking forward to this staff meeting today. Especially on a day like today, where his mind has been elsewhere ever since he has gone to bed last night and he has been dreaming of the past he has shared with Rafa. It had all felt so damn real... and waking up to the realization that not only his memories were that and nothing more, but that he had lost Rafa over a decade ago – it had hurt, a lot.

It would all be half as bad, if the assistant director of the safe house hadn't called in sick. She is usually the one to come to these meetings and that way he and Rafa's sister Maribel don't have to deal with one another. But Mirka has told him the younger woman's second in command is not there today and she has also told her she has seen Maribel today already and she had not been in a good mood. Not that Roger blames her for that. After all, this is a tough day for her as much as it is for him.

He is alone in the small conference room and he is fighting with the coffeemaker that simply doesn't want to comply and give him the cup of coffee he so desperately needs to feel at least a little more awake and alert. Something about the atmosphere in the room suddenly changes and instinct tells him to take in a deep intake of air. He hasn't heard anyone approach but as soon as he smells the air, he knows he is not alone in the room. He knows it before he ever turns around to look. It's the scent of an omega in heat. Roger hides back a sigh and turns to face the younger man he knows is standing in the doorway to the conference room. 

“You shouldn't be here, Stef.”

“Good morning to you too, Roger.”

It is indeed the young Greek and he sounds very much annoyed at the fact, that he is being told off for showing up here today, despite the very simple fact that this is what he is supposed to do. After all, he works here. He has taken every precaution coming here, he is back on his medication controlling the cycles already and he has responsibilities here. Above all that, he feels better. Not quite normal, not quite like himself, but better. It seems the way he feels and the way he smells – especially to any alpha around – are not the same thing though, as Roger points out to him rather bluntly, but lessens the sting with a small smile. 

“I can smell you from over here. And I am used to omegas around me, I am sleep deprived and without a decent amount of coffee in my system yet. How did you even get here?”

“Took a cab. Requested an omega driver.”

“That sounds pretentious coming from you.”

Stefanos is very well aware of the irony of him requesting a driver of a certain status. But it's not like he has done it because he is prejudiced or snobbish in any way. He has done it to make sure he will get to the office in one piece and without being bothered by any alpha. This way he has hoped to avoid sniffs and glances, advances being made and stupid comments being thrown his way. As it turns out – just because his colleagues are used to him, value his input and feel just as he does about equality – does not mean his day here is free of comments. Stefanos crosses his arms in front of his chest and makes a conscious effort to look Roger in the eyes when he explains his reasoning. 

“It was a matter of safety. My brother told me to be careful.”

“The alpha or the beta one?”

“Does it matter?”

“No, not really. Still, you should heed his advice. ”

Stefanos is about to tell Roger that it is exactly what he has done. It's the reason he has not taken the city subway, it's the reason he has started taking his medication two days early and he does not appreciate being told what to do. Because even if Roger doesn't say it in so many words, the older man means to tell him he shouldn't be here. That the safe course of action would have been to stay at home and wait out the remainder of his cycle before coming back to work. But today is a staff meeting and Stefanos is on staff. He's supposed to be here. 

He never gets a chance to tell Roger any of that, because he is suddenly pulled into a bone crushing hug from behind. With the hormones of the remnants of his heat still coursing through his system, his first instinct is to give in. His second is to fight. Both urges are dissipating as soon as the person holding on to him speaks. It is Maribel. Stefanos relaxes almost instantly... that is until Mari takes a deep intake of air and he can hear that strange mixture of... discomfort and pleased appreciation in her voice. It is nature fighting consciousness – her nature telling her to give in to her instinct based on his smell and her conscience telling her to remember that they are all equal here and that the hormones coming off of Stefanos mean nothing but a chemical imbalance that is about to be equalized within the next couple of days. 

“Stef! You're back. Are you feeling... Oh wow...”

“What?!”

“You should be home...”

Maribel has let go of him and has taken a step back before she brushes past him and steps further into the room – as of yet ignoring Roger completely – only to turn and face him with an overly wide and definitely fake smile. Stefanos can see the shallow breaths she is taking. Maybe coming here has not been such a good idea after all. He is most definitely making his alpha colleagues uncomfortable... But it's too late for that now and quite frankly the young Greek feels his colleagues and friends should be disciplined enough to get over their instincts urging them to pretty much pounce on him. If he can get through heat without an alpha, they can spent a day with him at the office smelling the way he does. 

“Not you, too!”

“What's that supposed to mean – me too?”

“Roger told me already – I smell of sex and dire need. Get over it already. The cycle is nearly complete, I have only a few lingering symptoms and I'm fine. Now get over yourselves or clamp your noses shut.”

“Even I can smell it...”

Stefanos – who has managed to talk himself into kind of a frenzy telling Mari and Roger off for their previous behavior, winces when yet another voice sounds behind him. This time it is Mirka, and she gives him a pointed look as she steps past him to get to the conference table, where a pen and a notepad are waiting for her to keep the transcript of today's staff meeting. Before Stefanos – who is quite embarrassed and just a little alarmed at the fact that even a beta can detect the scent of his heat still on him – can ever say anything to her, Maribel, who has been glaring at the older woman ever since she has stepped into the room, interjects on his behalf.

“What was that?”

“Nothing...”

Stefanos watches closely and he can practically see Mirka's defiance deflate as Maribel uses whatever she has in her arsenal – look, posture, facial features and above all else the – albeit involuntary – scent of an alpha in full dominance mode. The older woman can't do anything about it. It's the nature of all of their hormones and pheromones. She complies, because that is what her body and her instincts tell her to do when challenged by an alpha – any alpha - like this. Mari grins triumphantly at that and Mirka glares at her. 

The arrival of Carlos – who gives Stefanos a sympathetic side glance, a soft smile and an understanding nod, which is all the young Greek needs to understand even a fellow omega is detecting what is going on with him – cuts the unpleasant scene between the two women short. Roger is frowning at the older man now, because Carlos is not supposed to be here. He's not on senior staff and above all else he is no doctor. Roger asks him for an explanation.

“Where is Dr. Alvaro?”

“With a patient. I'm here in his stead.”

It is not really his place but Stefanos decides to take the initiative and call this meeting to order. The atmosphere in the room is already so thick with tension, one could cut it with a knife. Best to just start and talk about matters that concern all of them and have nothing to do with their own hormones or their personal misgivings and animosities. He doesn't get very far in his attempt to get the members of staff to settle at the table though. He has barely finished his suggestion when Roger interjects, and in turn receives a withering stare from Maribel. If looks could kill and if words could cut, the Swiss would be bleeding now, right before dropping dead to the floor. 

“Okay then... Let's get this meeting started.”

“Wait. How about a minute?”

“A minute of what?”

For a second there, something flickers in Roger's eyes and it is hard to tell whether it is defiance or guilt or actual fear. Either way, he doesn't like being challenged to an answer by Maribel like this. Hell, he doesn't even like being in the same room with her, especially not today. Stefanos can only assume the feeling is mutual. Actually he doesn't have to assume. The waves of aggression and contempt and sheer rejection rolling off Maribel especially are almost physically painful to be subjected to. At least it is for Stefanos and judging from Carlos expression – the only other omega in the room – he doesn't like it one bit either. It's not just the subconscious signs though, the conversation is just as awkward... and quickly veering of into a fight – an ugly one at that. 

“Quiet contemplation? Remembrance?”

“Stop it! Stop spraying your damn guilt all around!”

“But it's for your brother...”

“My brother is either dead or worse, he's in a situation like those six desperate souls the response team brought back from Croatia this morning. He doesn't need your contemplation or your sorrow or your damn regret. You had your chance to take care of him. You blew it – big time. There's no making up for it now.”

“I'm just trying to...”

Maribel never lets Roger finish, hatred and disdain practically radiating off of her now. She looks about ready to leap over the table and attack the older man. Barely contained rage sets alight a fire in her eyes. Stefanos cannot remember a single time he has seen the Spanish alpha like this. But this is a family matter, a family tragedy and Mari is deeply protective of her omega brother – even now, even after all those years that he has been lost to her. And she blames Roger – always has and probably always will. 

“You're trying to make yourself feel better!”

“I will never feel good about this. Never! I will never forgive myself.”

“Good. You shouldn't! You abandoned him. You might have just as well...”

“Guys, please!”

Stefanos hates interrupting the fight between the two alphas ensuing. But he has to. Especially because he is pretty sure Maribel has been about to accuse Roger of being responsible for her brother's death – if that is indeed what has happened to him. Better to end it there before she or even Roger say anything they will both regret in the aftermath. Both alphas are glaring at him now and Stefanos couldn't feel any more uncomfortable, exposed and vulnerable. He focuses on the one person he can trust, because that person is just like him and means him no harm whatsoever. 

“Carlos, tell us about the new cases, please.”

“Gladly.”

Whether it is the two omegas interacting or the fact that everybody else is trying to look anywhere but at Maribel and Roger, Stefanos will never find out. But his attempt – with the help of Carlos – to defuse the situation seems to work out. Maribel gives up on her stance poised to attack and Roger raises both hands in defeat. It takes another moment, but finally the two of them settle at the table – as far away from one another as humanly possible. Once they are settled and have given up on their fight for the moment, the rest of the little group sits down as well. It is time for this staff meeting to get underway... without any further incidents.


	7. Sascha

*Hamburg*

When Sascha comes home from his court date, the house he still shares with his parents is empty. They aren't there, haven't been when his lawyer had picked him up to take him to court and aren't now that the older man has dropped him back off here again. It's not that he is really disappointed. But a little support from their side, just a tiny bit of interest in how the stupid case has gone for him, would have been nice.

Sascha doesn't quite know what to do with himself. His first instinct tells him to find a drink, but it seems a little early for that. His second instinct is to go and find his father's credit card and find some place nice, warm and remote to retreat to to forget about this whole infuriating unpleasantness. In the end he gets to do neither of those things, because he is no longer alone. A key can be heard scraping inside the lock, and moments later his older brother appears in his line of sight.

Mischa doesn't live here any more, but he does have a key. He also has his own apartment and a wife to go back to... Which leads Sascha to believe that his parents are not uncaring after all. They simply don't have the guts to talk to him. So instead of talking to him directly, they have asked their eldest to check on his younger brother. Smart move... Figures that his beta parents would not want to talk to their son when he is upset... Instead they sent him Mischa – who is just like him... and a decade older than him. Obviously they expect him to be respectful with Mischa, and he is pretty sure his brother expects that too. Sascha however is not in the mood – not after the morning he has had.

“What are you doing here? Have you forgotten that you don't live here anymore?”

“I'm aware. Mama asked me to check on you.”

“How very considerate of her.”

“Don't be sarcastic and don't be rude. They don't deserve that.”

Sascha huffs at that. Actually he feels his parents deserve his disdain quite a lot. They deserve it more than he has let it show this far, because they have abandoned him... or at least that is what it feels like to Sascha. He has been left alone with this whole mess... and no parent should ever do that to their child... Maybe he sounds petulant or ungrateful or whatever, but he really can't bring himself to care.

“They didn't even try to help me with this...”

“They got you a lawyer didn't they?”

“A crappy lawyer.”

Mischa frowns at him with the answer he is given but he doesn't ask any questions about what his younger brother actually means by that. Obviously Mischa doesn't really care for him and the humiliation that has been this mock trial either. What he cares about is to fulfill his duty towards their parents and then get the hell out of here. At least that is what Sascha assumes, what he takes from the scent radiating off his brother – it's a somewhat strange mixture of awkwardness and annoyance. His brother sighs – it's a little over dramatic.

“You're all grown up, Sascha. You don't need their help. You said so yourself.”

“Mama won't even look at me.”

“She'll get over it.”

“Great. In the meantime I am stuck with this bogus charge.”

Finally – now that Sascha himself has spoken about the trial directly – his older brother asks him about the consequences of today's trial. Now that he is asked about it, Sascha doesn't really want to talk about it. It's just so fucking humiliating... The whole court case, his imbecile lawyer, that bitch of a judge and the joke of a sentence that has been bestowed upon him, it all weighs on his mind. In the end, the need to talk to somebody about all this far outweighs his pride though, which is kind of a rare occurrence... especially when it comes to opening up to his brother. Right now however, Mischa seems genuinely interested... and concerned.

“What's the verdict?”

“500 hours of community service in six months. And probation – a year.”

“500?! Didn't your lawyer and the court guy agree on something like 20?”

“They did. But as I said – the lawyer is no good and the judge was NOT impressed. She was a bitch...a real bitch.”

Sascha doesn't even mean it as an insult – or maybe he does, after all it is not nice to call any omega a bitch instead – but as a way for describing the judge's status. His older brother frowns at him for just a moment, but Sascha doesn't exactly expect protest from him. Actually he doesn't expect any kind of comment from him. They rarely ever talk about this stuff... or about anything in depth, intimate or deeply personal for that matter. They are simply to different in their personalities, the age gap between them too large and they have too little in common. In the end it comes as no surprise that Mischa tries to end the conversation rather abruptly. He is not wrong though – there is little to nothing Sascha can still do about the outcome of the trial. He can make himself feel better though. 

“There's nothing you can do about that now.”

“I thought I'd have a drink, get hilariously drunk and wake up with a major headache in the morning. And then I thought I'd go on vacation somewhere, preferably where there is a beach and a deep blue ocean and palm trees.”

“I don't think you'll find a tropical island to work off your social service hours.”

Whether Mischa is being intentionally thick or simply not picking up on what his younger sibling is trying to tell him, Sascha has no idea. He doesn't really care anyway. His brother's ignorance makes him a little bit angry though. Mischa of all people should understand. After all they are both alike and even his brother has just admitted that 500 hours of this stupid community service is definitely too much. The whole trial has been too much already. And Sascha doesn't want to give any merit to it by doing as he has been ordered by the court. Not if he can help it. Defiance shines in his eyes as he explains his future plans to Mischa.

“I don't want to work off these ridiculous hours. What's the worst they can do? Scold me for it?”

“They can send you to jail, Sascha. For the 500 hours AND the probation you got.”

“They wouldn't do that, would they?!”

“Do you really want to find out?”

“No...”

His brother has managed to shake his confidence and Mischa hasn't done so on purpose. There is no malice in his reaction – neither in his words, nor to his scent – and Sascha has to admit that he hasn't thought that far ahead yet. This whole damn thing is new to him and was never supposed to happen in the first place. He has no idea how a court can enforce the sentence rendered. But it does make sense that they can... and the last thing Sascha wants, is to end up in jail because one useless omega feels his delicate feelings have been hurt. His brother is smiling at him now – softly, emphatically and just a little pitying.

“Come on. I'll take you out for one drink, and tomorrow you and me and Mama and Papa find someplace suitable for you to work off those hours. It'll be okay, I promise, and once it's done we'll never talk about this again...”

*#*

It doesn't really stay at one drink but that isn't his brother's fault. Mischa takes him to a bar, orders him a beer and they sit side by side in semi-comfortable silence as they drink. The bar isn't too far from their family home and Sascha declines his brother's offer to drive him back. He wants to walk, wants fresh air, wants to clear his head. Above all else he wants a chance to stop by at a store on his way home and make sure that beer is not the only thing he drinks today.

He retreats to his room upon his return home – to a yet empty house – and he doesn't come out until the next morning. Drinking has helped somewhat, at least for the remainder of the last day it has. He has managed to forget about all this unpleasantness at some point. Unfortunately the morning after leaves him with a headache, an overall feeling of soreness, a bad taste in his mouth and the memory of yesterday's events returning full force. Just as he has expected, he has achieved nothing more but to make himself feel miserable... and the hits just keep on coming after that.

It's a little past ten in the morning when he emerges from his room and goes in search of coffee. His father is at the kitchen table, when he enters the room, his mother however is nowhere in sight. Figures... From the way his father looks at him, Sascha is pretty sure he is aware of his son's hangover. If it wouldn't show in his looks and slightly uncoordinated movements, Sascha is sure it is radiating off of him as well. Hell, even he can smell it, can smell his own scent and that doesn't happen too often. His father is giving him a stern look as he watches Sascha's every move, pouring himself a cup of coffee and leaning against the kitchen counter for support. When his father's voice breaks the silence, it sounds very much unforgiving. Sascha winces. 

“Your attorney called.”

“Great.”

“Alexander...”

His father rarely calls him by his full name and he rarely uses that tone of voice with him. It's a warning tone, one that tells him all too clearly to tread carefully and not piss his father off. Quite frankly, Sascha could care less, especially about the reasons for the no good attorney to call here again. But he is at least mildly curious as well. He takes another sip of his coffee – intentionally making his father wait – before he asks about the contents of the call. All the while his father is watching him like a hawk, his facial features never once betraying any kind of emotion.

“What did he want?”

“Apparently the prosecutor's office has send a list of suitable organizations at which you can work off your social service hours. He also set up a meeting with a social services worker handling demerits such as yours.”

His father knows about the verdict – probably because the lawyer told him or maybe Mischa did – but he doesn't say anything about it. He doesn't call it wrong or outrageous or cause for an appeal. He simply accepts it. Sascha can practically feel his blood boil in his veins at his father's indifference. For just a second, Sascha thinks about defying his father and rejecting the offer. He can, he knows that. The very fact that both his parents are betas – which makes him and Mischa kind of a rarity, as two betas rarely ever produce anything but another beta – makes it possible.

Instinct tells them to comply with their son's wishes, which Sascha has used to his advantage on a couple of occasions. But it is wrong and it doesn't always work. Given how strained their family dynamic already is at this point because of the charge and trial, he opts out of making matters any worse. He might not like it, but – even if his father doesn't sound friendly or helpful – his parents are indeed trying to help him out here. They care, even if it doesn't show in the way they treat him or talk to him. Sascha sighs deeply for dramatic effect... and gives in.

“When?”

“11.30. Mischa will pick you up and drive you. He'll be here at 11. Be on time.”

It's the last thing his father says to him on the matter before he gets up and leaves the kitchen, leaving Sascha to deal with the fallout on his own. He hates his parents with a passion in that moment – springing this on him without supporting him. But in the end it is better this way. At least now he doesn't have to take care of this ridiculous business himself and have his time wasted any more than it already is...

Mischa is on time and drives him downtown to his meeting, telling Sascha to call once he is done. His brother doesn't offer to come with him and the younger man doesn't ask. As Mischa and his parents have made it clear before – he is a grown up now, he is 22 years old and that is old enough to clean up his own messes. Just that he hasn't actually made a mess. He is simply the victim of a lie and of prejudices by law enforcement... Even the appointment with the social services worker is like that – a part of a mess he has not made. And she is supposed to help him out.

But to Sascha this whole thing feels a lot like pulling teeth without any anesthesia by a road show dentist must have felt like to people a couple of centuries ago. It is painful and it is a damn slow process. It has been a day since that farce of a trial has left him with a sentence of 500 hours of community service and he is supposed to take care of the actual details today with the help of that woman. Just like the day before in court, he has no idea what he is doing in yet another administrative building going to yet another meeting he wants no part of. But he is here... and at least – unlike the judge – the woman he talks to today seems to know what she is doing.

She is cold, calculating but she is not unfriendly. She simply does her job and that is a nice change from his previous encounters with people when it comes to his alleged crime. The police officers have been confrontational, the judge has been downright disrespectful, his lawyer has been useless, his brother doesn't care and his parents... they are disappointed in him. It is why they didn't accompany him to the trial and it is why he is alone for this meeting here now. In Sascha's book that is okay. He can take care of himself. And actually the social services worker has offered quite a few... interesting choices for him. She is telling him about the best one so far right now.

“We have another organization looking for volunteers. This one is a non-governmental organization based out of Paris dedicated to the legal, psychological and health care of omegas in any kind of distress. I think this would be suitable for you. And it definitely sends the right message to the court.”

“Paris. Is that okay... I mean the court is a German one. Can I do those... hours in Paris?”

It's the first practical and not slightly annoyed question Sascha asks since coming here. Paris actually sounds like a great idea. It's a beautiful city and there are lots of things he can do there. And he would be away from the guilt trip his family is giving him. He would be on his own – independent and without anyone around to tell him what to do. Actually it sounds perfect. But he wants to make sure it fulfills the stupid legal requirements first. The last thing he wants is to return home from Paris after half a year, having done what is expected of him and playing volunteer for this charity, only to find out it doesn't count for nothing. The social services worker however has good news for him in that regard.

“As it is a charity organization within the European Union, there is no problem with that. All you need to do is get properly filed and signed confirmation of your working hours by one of the heads of the organization. That should do it.”

“That sounds okay enough... 500 hours in 6 months... that's... like 85 hours a months, so... 22 hours a week? I can do that... and enjoy the city.”

“How you fulfill your legal requirements set by the court is up to you.”

She doesn't like the way he is approaching this, Sascha can tell. Of course she doesn't say it in so many words, but she never has to. The condescending tone to her voice and the sour expression on her face tell him everything he needs to know. She doesn't have to like it though. She only has to help him. And how much of a good time he will be having in Paris when he is not on his 20 something hours of community service for that ridiculous charity is all up to him. This will be good – he is sure of it. 

“Good, great... How do I do this? Do I call them or what?”

“Actually I think it is better if I will contact them. I know the proper procedures... and the proper tone to a conversation such as this.”

“Are you accusing me of anything?”

Sascha doesn't even try to hide the annoyance and the mild threat from his voice. What the hell is it with people in law enforcement and other administrative positions in their legal and social system? She is the next one in a row of people who treat him like some kind of good-for-nothing criminal, who doesn't deserve to at least have a bit of a good time while he is working off these demerits that never should have been bestowed on him in the first place! Whatever emotions the social services worker feels, she stows them away and returns to her previous efficiency. She wants to get this meeting done and over with just as much as he does. Sascha can appreciate that.

“No. So this will be suitable?”

“Yes. Very suitable. Go ahead and call them.”


	8. Stefanos and Maribel

*Paris*

The rest of their staff meeting has gone by without further incident and they have actually gotten a lot done today. Stefanos has retreated to the safety of his own little office, he has a right to as assistant director, and has decided to have a slow day today. He's supposed to make calls, is supposed to talk to sponsors and check on a couple of companies providing for their next planned function. But he does nothing of that. Instead he decides to check on his email correspondence and clean up his desk. It takes about as much energy as he has still left for the remainder of this work day. 

He is halfway through the mails that have accumulated over the last three and a half days he has been sidelined by the heat, when there is a knock on the door to his office. He doesn't really expect to see anyone today, but maybe one of the other members on staff wants to check on him and see how he is doing. Stefanos could do without that. But he can't hide himself away either. As it turns out, there is no need to feel apprehensive. The visitor stepping into his office and closing the door behind her is Maribel and she has not come to ask about him but to thank him. She drops in the free chair at his desk – the one usually reserved for visitors – and gives him a small smile. 

“Thanks for your intervention...”

“I didn't think you appreciated it much.”

“From an instinctual, emotional point of view, no – not one bit. From a rational, logical point – very much so. You kept me from leaping over that table and ripping his damn head off... Talking about my brother like that...”

There is an edge of disdain to her voice now, as there always is whenever she talks about Roger. It makes Stefanos feel uncomfortable. He likes Roger, even looks up to the man and being confronted with Maribel's hatred and disgust like that is always difficult. He can understand why she feels the way he does and he knows there is more than one side to this rather complicated story. But he has never once been able not to say something on Roger's behalf when it comes to the way Mari feels about the older man... and both their rights to feel sad and guilty about the loss of her brother. Stefanos treads carefully and still Mari is incapable of reigning in her anger. It's not directed at him though. It is simply there. 

“You're not the only one who is hurting today, Mari...”

“He can hurt and feel sorry for himself all he wants but he does NOT get to flaunt it in my face like that!”

Mari rarely ever calls Roger by name, it is blatantly obvious right now. Stefanos knows why she does it though – to her Roger is sort of a nameless, faceless enemy responsible for the loss of her brother and the pain she feels about that still. It's not fair towards the Swiss but that is a discussion Stefanos does not want to continue. It leads them nowhere fast. Mari will never change her mind about Roger – no matter how hard Stefanos tries to convince her. Given his depleted energy levels, he decides to cut the conversation short instead. 

“Is that what you came here for? To thank me and to rant about Roger?”

“No. Actually I was wondering if you would like to have dinner with me...”

Stefanos frowns at the suggestion. Maribel should know better than to ask this of him. He is not entirely through the heat – she herself has told him as much, detecting his still very pronounced scent – and he cannot be around people, especially not around other alphas. He gets that Maribel doesn't want to be alone though. Not on a day like today. He hates disappointing her, but he has to. Maribel however has an alternative already in place for him. 

“I can't go out, Mari. Not like this. Not with the cycle not yet complete.”

“Dinner at my place then. How about that?”

“I don't think you have ever offered to cook for me before... Are you any good at it?”

“Yes. Very good actually.”

“How?”

It's more a tease and a joke but unfortunately – and unknowingly – Stefanos has opened a can of worms here. Maribel's face falls and her voice changes. She looks sad, pained even and it doesn't take a genius to realize that whatever the answer to Stefanos innocent little questions is, has something to do with her brother.

“My brother taught me.”

*#*

Stefanos shows up at Mari's apartment a couple of minutes past nine in the evening. They have agreed on eight thirty, but getting here without drawing too much attention to himself has not exactly been easy. It has taken calls to three different cab companies before he has found one willing to send him an omega driver upon his request. Obviously requesting drivers this late in the day is sort of frowned upon in the city of Paris. It is why he is late and why he has decided to take along a bottle of wine in apology to Maribel.

He knows he shouldn't drink. It can make the remnants of his cycle more potent and it may cause Mari to drop her guard a little and allow instinct to take over her rational thinking. Then again they don't need to have the entire bottle... When Stefanos arrives at the second floor apartment – after being buzzed in at the apartment building's door – the door is slightly ajar and he can already smell the scent of delicious and freshly cooked food. Maribel has not been exaggerating. She is a good cook indeed. 

Stefanos steps into the apartment and the smell of the food intensifies. The young Greek closes the door behind him and looks into the adjacent rooms, but Maribel is nowhere in sight. Stefanos assumes she is still in the kitchen. He can't help but feel a sting of jealousy when he sees the large, clean, orderly apartment with it's spacious rooms and exquisite furnishing. Maribel has the financial support of her family... She lives a life that is different from his. Stefanos pushes the thought aside and calls out to his friend.

“Mari, I'm here. I brought a bottle of wine.”

“There are glasses in the cupboard of the dining room. The table is already set. I'll be there with the food in a minute.”

Stefanos has no idea where the dining room is, but it's not like this apartment is gigantic or anything. It simply takes a little bit of trial and error, and Stefanos finds both the dining room and the wine glasses in the cupboard. He has put the glasses on the table and has opened the bottle when Maribel steps into the room, balancing two plates with food. It's nothing fancy – a bit of pasta a bit of seafood – but it smells delicious.

They settle at the table and eat in silence for a while, both of them enjoying their meal. Stefanos is curious though. He wants to find out how the rest of Maribel's day has been. On his behalf, there isn't much to tell. He has spent two more hours at the office after talking to the younger woman, has checked in on the six new patients at the clinic and has taken a cab back to his apartment. The only thing he has done since his return home is to sleep... He has needed it. 

“How was the rest of your day?”

“I dodged a lot of phone calls from overly concerned family members and old friends.”

“You sound annoyed.”

Stefanos tries not to sound condescending but he can't help it. He has no right to judge, he knows that. Especially as he has been the one being completely annoyed with his own younger brother just this morning when he had called to check in on Stefanos. With Maribel and her family it is a lot like with Stefanos and his parents and siblings. Ever since the Spanish woman's brother has disappeared, and she has decided to join the foundation, the relationship has been strained – especially with her mother. It shows all too clearly on a day like today when all Mari wants to do is hide herself away from her past... and her family. 

“That's because I am. I hate to be reminded of what this day represents.”

“They don't all call to remind you, do they? I would think most of them call to reminisce? To remember the person your brother was, not to remember the pain of the loss.”

“I guess... Funny enough both my aunt and uncle called and said pretty much exactly the same thing. Figures though...”

Stefanos is pretty sure he is missing something that should be obvious to him. Otherwise Mari wouldn't be this vague referring to her aunt and uncle. Stefanos tries to remember, tries to sift through his memories of what Mari has told him about her extended family but he is drawing a blank. She has been looking at him this entire time – her expression somewhere between amused, curious and expecting. In the end, the Greek has to relent. He has no idea what his friend is trying to tell him. 

“I don't get it.”

“They are twins, Stef. They share a special bond.”

“Special how?”

“It's almost like the way alphas and omegas bond when mating but different at the same time. It's hard to explain really. They share... emotions, states of mind, stuff like that. Sometimes I wish my brother and I, we had that, had what my uncle and his twin sister have... That special bond... But it's rare you know... I only ever heard of it with twins. I assume the Swiss children have it as well... or will have it once they present differently.”

Mari is doing it again, talking about Roger's children like they are some foreign entity to her. All four of them are yet too young to present. Neither of Roger's children have even hit puberty yet. It will happen eventually and given the fact that they have been conceived through a surrogate, there is a good chance for either alphas or omegas in that mix. Stefanos assumes an omega child would be poetic justice for Roger... at least in Mari's eyes. But he doesn't say that out loud. Instead he concentrates on Mari's own family dynamics, trying to figure out which of the twins that are her aunt and uncle have which status. He has a vague memory of it, of something his friend has told him sometime, and he turns out to remember it correctly.

“Your uncle is like you, your aunt is like me?”

“Yes. But Rafa and I... we never had that. I always thought it would develop once I had presented. I mean we were always so close, we could tell each other everything... But it never happened.”

“Maybe it's better this way.”

“Why would you say that?”

Mari sounds just a little defensive and maybe even a a tad hurt at the way Stefanos phrases his reply. Maybe he is being inconsiderate and he definitely cannot relate to the way Mari feels. After all he has never lost a sibling and he prays to god he never will. But still – from an emphatic point of view – it sounds easier to him to go through the grief of loss without actually feeling that special bond breaking and the other person – that other part of the same soul – falling silent forever. Loss and grief are debilitating enough. But something like this... even thinking about it, Stefanos feels like suffocating.

“Losing your brother like this, it must've been bad enough. But actually feeling the loss of that bond... that must be devastating... debilitating... excruciating even.”

“Like going through heat without an alpha?”

“Smooth transition there, Mari. But yeah... something like that.”

She is making a joke despite the rather serious topic, but Stefanos knows for a fact that there is more to it. Because Maribel picking up the topic of his heat again does not happen by accident. It is some sort of unspoken conflict between them – the fact that she is both his friend and an alpha... who could very much help him out when he goes through heat. Mari had made it abundantly clear, that she would be there for him – not as a lover or somebody to bond with and be dependent on. But as a platonic friend to help Stefanos out in a time of need.

She would never force the matter though. She has told him, has let him know she is available and has left everything else up to him. If he doesn't ask, she will not offer again. Right now however Mari is to engrossed in her own misery to even realize they are talking about Stefanos and his need for an alpha during heat. It has just been a side note and instead of picking up on it, Mari focuses back on the conversation at hand, which is still about her missing brother. 

“But maybe I would have been able to find him. Reach out through the bond, feel what he feels, share emotions, perception even. This way we would have had a chance to find out where he has disappeared to... This way we would know if he's...”

“Dead?”

“Yes.”

They sit in silence after that, the gravity of their conversation weighing them down. Stefanos can understand the motion. Losing somebody is bad, he knows that. But not being sure if that loved one is actually lost, not knowing what has happened, not knowing if her brother has been kidnapped or hurt or killed... it has left a hole inside of Maribel no amount of work or friendship or family bonds can ever fill... It has left a festering wound deep inside her heart that has never fully healed... and she is not the only one feeling this way. Opposite of him Mari takes a deep breath, forcing yet another unpleasant topic to the surface, now that they are on the matter... 

“I talked to my mother today as well.”

“And how did that go?”

“Not good. She cried almost the entire time... And when she was coherent enough to form a couple of words, she begged me to come back home... I really should have known better...”

“Today's a difficult day – for your entire family.”

Maribel huffs at that – a short humorless sound that makes Stefanos wince in the process. He hates it when she sounds this... disillusioned and cynical. It simply doesn't suit her. He hasn't known her before, but he has heard stories – mainly from Carlos – about the happy, unburdened, innocent, curious and mildly hyperactive child she has been. The little girl in her brother's wake that had always wanted to be a part of his life – no matter the age difference and the fact that he would have rather spent time with his friends of his own age instead of with his obnoxious younger sister... And the fact that he had never once complained or had told his sister off. Stefanos had heard stories about the closeness of the siblings... It's no wonder the loss has changed Maribel. He himself can't even imagine losing either of his siblings... and they get on his nerves more often than not. Stefanos needs to refocus his attention as he realizes Maribel is talking again.

“Some more than others... She has never gotten over it. The uncertainty of it all. We've only been able to have a proper declaration of... of his passing a year ago, did you know that? Officially he was listed as missing and presumed dead until then... But even now, even with a certificate and a chance to claim benefits from insurance companies and have a look at last will and testament... it doesn't help. For my mother it has made things worse. She has never wanted to have a funeral service or even a memorial. Though I think we should have done that. To honor my brother and to give the people that cared about him a chance at closure. Because this way even now we don't know what has happened. We will probably never know.”

Stefanos has no idea how to react to that. It is the truth after all. After more than a decade, the case of her brother's disappearance is as cold as it can ever get. There is little chance for the truth to ever come out and even less of a chance to find him... None of those facts are things he wants to tell Maribel. Instead he lets actions speak instead of words. He grabs the opened wine bottle, pours each of them a glass of wine and slides one of the half full glasses over to Maribel before he picks up his own glass, a grave small smile on his lips..

“To your brother.”

“To my brother. Requiescat in pace.”

It's odd to hear the use of the Latin words from the Spanish alpha, but as Mari has just told him – there has never been a burial or memorial for her brother. He can only assume that a proper catholic burial ceremony would have had those words in them somewhere. Maybe this is Maribel's tiny chance at closure... They clink their glasses together and have a sip, both of them contemplating and deeply lost in thought. It has never occurred to Stefanos before, but in this moment right now – sitting here with the grieving woman he considers a dear friend – he wishes he would have had the chance to meet and get to know her brother...


	9. Roger and Rafa

*Paris – two days later*

Roger is aware that he is acting like a headless chicken and quite frankly it is the same time every last time they have the particular visitor at their house, who is coming by today. His wife is about ready to leave, which is also her same modus operandi every time they have this particular visitor. She has helped Roger to prepare, get something to eat, organize, make sure the house is spotless, and the kids are presentable... but still he feels something is missing. And when Mirka tells him that she will be leaving half an hour early, that the laundry isn't done, and that they are mysteriously out of coffee powder, Roger snaps at her just a little. 

“Anthea will be here in an hour!”

Anthea is their... surrogate. She is the omega who has carried all four of their children. And the fact that she has carried the first set of twins, has put a considerable strain on his relationship with Mirka. Because it hasn't been a consensual agreement. Not between his wife and him and not between Anthea and him. Curiously enough, it has been Roger who's opinion and input had neither been asked nor valued in the process of decision making. Anthea had been... forced on him by his wife. An omega in heat and he hasn't been able to contain himself.

It's a long, complicated and painful story and it has been the most difficult decision of his life in the aftermath of the events. Because what his wife has done should be unforgivable... But she has done it with good reason and in the end Roger had understood that. It doesn't mean he forgives her, it doesn't mean he accepts the deceit or the arbitrary act she has committed and it certainly doesn't mean he can endorse the discrimination and advantage being taken of an omega, who hadn't been able to fight for herself at the time being.

He and Mirka had talked about having children for quite some time before the whole... mess with Anthea had happened. Rafa had still been a part of Roger's life back then, and his girlfriend – because marriage had not been in the picture at that point – had been somewhat anxious about the whole topic. Roger knows he could have handled the situation better. In the end, Mirka had been jealous... and very much afraid of losing him to Rafa – to the omega who could give Roger the one thing she couldn't – children.

They had known, the conception of a child without a third party involved would not be possible and they had known so from the start. A beta woman and an alpha male having children was simply a hormonal impossibility. It left them with pretty much two options to choose from and both of them meant for their children to only be half theirs and half... somebody else's. They could either find a beta male willing to impregnate his then-girlfriend or an omega willing to carry their child – or more precisely Roger's child – for them.

Mirka had not wanted another beta involved – she had been strictly against that – and the only chance for an omega to willingly participate in their plans had... gone up in flames in a rather heated argument. And then everything had changed when Rafa had disappeared from one day to the next. Suddenly the subject of kids had no longer been on the forefront for Roger. He had been crazed with worry and guilt, he had been unable to think of anything else but of Rafa's health and safety and he had – slowly but gradually – driven Mirka away and had driven her into desperation. She had been deeply afraid of losing him, losing him to an omega that was no longer there, losing him to his own growing insanity. So she had found a way to bind him to her... a desperate measure in desperate times.

It had been less than three months since Rafa had disappeared from the face of the earth, seemingly without a trace and the Swiss had still been grieving and deeply traumatized by the fact of the matter, when there had been a foreign scent one afternoon when he had returned home from yet another fruitless visit to a private detective he had hired to find the missing Spaniard. The scent had been exquisite, it had been delicious, and above all else it had been arousing. It had made him forget about his sorrows, his worries and in the weakened state his addled mind and hurting emotions had been in, Roger had been unable to resist.

That had been Anthea – an omega, outcast by her family upon the realization of her status, barely getting by in her every day life, disillusioned by the life her status forced on her, and easy prey to the promise of both a large sum of money and the safety of a good home for the time of her pregnancy. She had practically jumped at the chance when Mirka had found her and had convinced her of what needed to be done... And Roger had fallen right into the trap set up for him and had done the one thing that was expected of him – he had gotten Anthea pregnant.

He had felt absolutely disgusted with himself when sheer instinct had finally receded, and his logical mind had taken over again, making him realize what he had done. Anthea had been nothing but happy – the pleasure of the physical act fulfilling her needs and the fact that she was to be handsomely rewarded for this encounter an added bonus. She had been too out of it to lie to him and that was how Roger had found out about Mirka's deception and ploy... 

He had been blinded by rage and fury when he had found out the truth. It was the only time in their entire relationship he had been close to actually, physically harming Mirka. And it had also been the time he had been closest to leaving her. She had betrayed him, used him and she had done it all for the sake of her own wishes. Roger had wanted nothing more but to not see her again... But things were rarely ever that easy. Because leaving Mirka, would have meant for him to be completely alone.

Losing Rafa in that godawful way and losing the woman he had been with for over six years at that particular point in time had simply been too much for him to take. He had told her as much, had told her it was his weakness, not his feelings for her that kept them together. He had set rules for her as well, had told her to comply with all of Anthea's financial and emotional needs, and that he expected her to take care of the children like they were their own. He also made it clear to her, she was to adhere to Anthea's every wish when it came to the pregnancy, birth and subsequent care of the little ones. Finally, he had her promise him never to do anything like that ever again.

They had indeed taken good care of Anthea after that, and the experience of the omega's pregnancy had brought them back together. It was just as much a coming of age for the young omega as it had been for them. It had still been a long time for Roger to learn to trust Mirka again, but the fact that she had asked for his opinion, his cooperation and his absolute agreement the second time around had helped somewhat. Anthea had been their surrogate again when the boys had been born 5 years ago, and that had been more a favor than a business transaction really.

Anthea felt she had owed it to the Swiss couple to fulfill them their wish for another set of children. Because she had been more than just a surrogate to the Swiss couple. Being taken into their home – and she had said so on numerous occasions - had been the best thing that had ever happened to her. Because as it turned out, Anthea was smart – sometimes too smart for her own good – and very much ambitious. Given a chance and being away from people who had told her she was useless and worth nothing since the day she had presented as omega, she had thrived and had unlocked her true potential.

She is running a fertility clinic these days – one of the few run by an omega and of which Roger is absolutely sure is entirely within the confines of the law. Anthea would never do anything that would hurt another omega, not even for her own personal gain. She tries to help those, who cannot help themselves, offers them a place to stay and an offer of payment in return for their services as a surrogate. Those omegas – much like Anthea when she had first joined the household of the Swiss couple – received excellent medical care, an education if they so wished, proper explanations on every step of the procedure, a safe and professionally assisted birth and the right to see the children they had conceived for others and be a part of their lives whenever they so pleased. 

Today is Anthea's visiting day with Roger's and Mirka's children and the Swiss knows from personal experience, how much it means to the younger woman. He knows a lot more about omegas today than he has in those first days when he had found out about Rafa and his secret, and he knows that giving up a child is the hardest thing to ever ask of any omega. Most of them are fiercely domestic, to the point of going through physical pain when separated from their offspring. It is why Anthea comes to visit frequently... and it is why Roger feels such a fierce hatred to every fertility clinic fronting as legal but exploiting the omegas in their care. Because nothing – except maybe for real physical pain – hurts them more than being forced to carry to term and then have their newborn ripped from their arms...

By the time Anthea arrives, Mirka has left and the kids are eagerly awaiting their birth mother's arrival. It's always a little disconcerting and adorable at the very same time, to find his usually so overexcited and hard to tame children sitting on the couch together, all perfectly compliant and eagerly waiting for the door bell to ring. That calm always lasts for about four seconds after Anthea has entered the room. As soon as the kids catch sight of her, all previous serenity flies right out the window and they can't wait to get a hug or even a word in.

“Anthea!”

“Hey pups... I'm so happy to see you again.”

Roger always winces at the use of the word 'pups', but Anthea has always done this and the two sets of twins are just as much her children as they are his and Mirka's. The kids love them and they respect them, but the bond they have with their birth mother is a special one. It's almost like a link, a subconscious way of knowing exactly what the other wants, needs and is going through right now. It makes the relationship so much deeper and more intimate... Roger gets why Mirka doesn't want to be here for this. It's just too damn painful. She is the kid's mother but in some aspects she can never be as close to them as Anthea is... 

Despite his mixed feelings, Roger has always enjoyed watching Anthea with the kids. It reminds him of Rafa, of the way things could have been, if fate and a few harsh words spoken at the wrongest of times wouldn't have derailed any chance they ever had at being something akin to a family... Right now in particular, Roger remembers a conversation the two of them have had, years and years ago. Rafa had been 19 at the time and they were in Rome after an epic five sets final that Rafa had won in the end, and somehow they had started talking about children...

*#*

*Rome - 2006*

It's an exceptionally hot Monday midday and given the fact that they have played a grueling five set match not even 24 hours ago, all Roger has managed to do is offer Rafa a spot in the shade on the balcony of his pent house suite and an order to room service for cold drinks and a couple of light snacks. It is nice like this, normal, almost domestic and Roger simply enjoys the presence of the younger man.

This is nothing like the brief moments of hushed words and stolen kisses in locker rooms or the catacombs of some tennis arena. And it's not the animalistic, all encompassing passion of their physical relationship – heat or not. This is something entirely different, and if Roger had to choose right now, he wouldn't want it any other way. He returns to the outside from the minibar, hands a bottle of chilled water to Rafa and drops down in the free deck chair next to him.

There's no need to talk. There is nothing much to say anyway. They are in their own little bubble right now, protected from the outside world, but they both know it's not meant to last. From here they will go to Paris – to the French Open – where Rafa will try to defend his title and where they will be rivals and competitors again. For now however all of that is forgotten. They are friends and lovers and they are perfectly happy with what they have. 

It's Rafa who finally breaks the silence between them, in a situation when Roger is about to doze of in the warm breeze of the early afternoon sun. He has not expected Rafa to talk to him, because the younger man has seemed just as content as him... and just as tired. But obviously there is something on Rafa's mind and it needs to be talked about now. Not in Paris, not during a tournament when all they will have of one another are stolen moments. This... is more serious. When Rafa speaks, there is a nervousness to his voice Roger can't quite place. But it is enough for him to open his eyes again, sit up properly and face the younger man. It's what Rafa needs in that moment... and Roger is more than willing to abide by that. The topic the Spaniard picks makes little to no sense to Roger though. 

“I see you with the young mother after the match. You give her an autograph... and you hold her baby...”

“She asked me to do it. It was a little awkward, I guess. I'm not really used to babies.”

“You are a natural. You make a great father one day, Rogi.”

Roger frowns at the younger man. This conversation has veered of to a more serious note rather quickly and even though Rafa hasn't said as much, Roger is pretty sure this is not about some autograph and someone else's baby. This is something else, something deeper. He remembers the last time he has seen Rafa with a small child... His whole face had lit up and he had looked... happy. He had looked whole. Unlike him, Rafa is truly a natural with children.

“Same to you.”

“Only if I find somebody who wants me like that. You know I can't... Not on my own.”

“Yeah, I know...”

It's the tragedy of Rafa's nature. Being domestic, wanting children, wanting a family to care for is deeply ingrained in him because of his omega nature. Having that however, taking initiative and getting that for himself is out of the question. Because Rafa cannot get anyone pregnant. It's a physical impossibility for any omega male. He can only wait for the right partner to come along – the right alpha to mate and bond with... It's one of the big unspoken things in their relationship, because that is what they have – a relationship. But Roger is with Mirka and he wants to stay with Mirka. He cannot be the alpha Rafa needs... He doesn't know how.

“Do you want?”

“What?”

“Have a child. With me...”

Rafa actually says it and that surprises Roger more than anything. Being this straightforward, this demanding isn't usually his way to do things. But as Roger has learned quite a while ago, Rafa is a bit of an odd duck and he is nothing if not stubborn and persistent. If he wants something, he gets it – works hard and strives towards his goal until he has achieved it. It is why he is so good at what he does in and for their sport despite his status... And it is why they are having this conversation now, a conversation Roger definitely is not prepared to have. 

“With... with you? You mean, do I want to... get you pregnant?!”

“Si.”

“Like right now?!”

Roger knows he is being stupid. Of course Rafa wouldn't ask him to get him pregnant right here and now. It's not possible anyway – not with the combination of suppressants and scent blockers he is taking at the moment. It messes with the heat cycle and pretty much renders the younger man infertile until a new cycle begins... They couldn't conceive a child now, even if they wanted to. But despite the obvious facts they are both aware of, Rafa reacts harshly – almost like he feels insulted. 

“No! One day.”

“I don't know, Rafa...”

“Because of Mirka? She hates me...”

Rafa is quick to pick up on what the problem is, but then again this is not the first time they talk about this difficult... love triangle they have subjected themselves to. It makes things that should be easy – especially between an alpha and his chosen omega – a lot more complicated. But Roger can't help it, because he doesn't want to change anything. He is happy with the way things are going. With the woman he trusts and values and with the man he loves with a passion... He feels there is no need to ruin what they have... or complicate it with an offspring.

“She doesn't hate you, Rafa. She is just... protective of our relationship. As is her right.”

“You... you... no want me like that?”

“I don't know, okay? I don't know what I want. I'm 25 years old, Rafa. I have plenty of time to think about it. Right now, all I want is to be happy and I am happy with you... Isn't that enough?”

Roger asks the last question with a bit more force and offense to it than necessary before he leans over and pushes forward, leaning right into Rafa's personal space and placing a long, hard, deep kiss   
on the younger man's lips. Rafa stiffens for the fraction of a second and then he seems to melt away under Roger's ministrations like butter in the sun. When the Swiss pulls back, Rafa is smiling at him – but there is something off about that smile. It seems strained... and saddened, just like the tone of his voice. But for the moment, it is enough for Roger all the same. 

“Si. Is enough.”

*#*

Roger is pulled from his bittersweet memory by Anthea, who has stepped up to him and has gently touched him by the arm. Roger blinks at her and his gaze wanders from the omega female to his children, who have obviously been given gifts by their birth mother. He hadn't even realized it, he had been that deeply lost in thought. Anthea gives him an understanding, sympathetic smile. She knows about the anniversary of two days ago, knows how hard it is for Roger, even after all those years. But it seems there is something of importance weighing on her mind. Something – as it turns out – she needs Roger's help with. 

“I wanted to talk to you about something.”

“Is it the kids? Or the clinic? Do you need help?”

Anthea shakes her head and the smile on her lips changes. But there is still an edge of worry, of discomfort left to it. It is because of what she has to tell him, because those aren't good news. Anthea is fine, her clinic is fine, the kids are fine, but through her work Anthea knows a lot of people – especially people who are in the same line of work as her – and not all of them are as concerned for the well-being of the omegas in their care as Anthea is. The foundation has gotten three tips from Anthea in the past and they had all paid off. It seems she is about to make it four. 

“That's just the thing. I don't know yet. I have a lot of connections as you can imagine, and lately I have been hearing a couple of... disconcerting stories about another clinic down in Spain. It's all just rumors for now, as far as I can tell. But if they are true, it's definitely bad... I just wanted to ask you – if it turns out that there is substance to it all... could you help?”

“Yes! Yes, of course.”

“Good. I'll keep you posted.”


	10. Stefanos and Roger

*Paris – Monday morning*

Stefanos is... not amused when he hangs up the phone after the call he has just had, has ended. Calls being patched through to him from the switchboard are rarely ever fun for him. But they are part of what they do here. Today he has spoken with some German administrative official working for a local branch of some sort of social services agency in the city of Hamburg. And she has pushed more than offered a volunteer on him. A volunteer working off demerits for a charge pertaining to the discrimination and abuse of an omega.

Sometimes it seems like a sick joke to him that those agencies keep trying to pawn of their misfits abusing omegas on their agency dedicated to helping omegas. Shouldn't these people see the obvious conflict? Aren't there enough social programs in their own country, that they need to send a German misfit to France to work off his social service hours? Aren't there streets in Germany he can pick trash from or underprivileged children he can read to? There should be a better way to do this...

The truly infuriating thing is the fact that Stefanos can't very well say no and decline to take in a volunteer. They are a non-governmental organization and they rely on volunteer work just as much as they rely on donations. Rejecting a volunteer in need of a place to work off his hours is bad for their overall reputation. A drop in reputation means a drop in donation and that means a drop in people they can help. So there really isn't much he can do... except mope about it.

He is about to leave his office – because a walk, maybe a bit of fresh air and some coffee seem like a good idea – and go see Maribel, because he needs somebody to talk to about all this and he trusts in and values the older woman's opinion. As it turns out, he doesn't have to walk over to the safe house after all. Because when he reaches the door leading out of his office, the handle is being pushed down, and a second later he is face to face with Roger, who looks a little surprised and confused to find him standing right there by the door.

“Stef, I'm sorry. Was I... interrupting?”

“No, not at all. I was on my way to get coffee.”

“No need.”

Roger smiles at him and it is only now that the younger man realizes the Swiss is balancing two cups of coffee. It's almost like the older man has managed to read his mind, but then again they sit together for coffee and a chat more often than not. Why should today be any different? Quite frankly, Stefanos is curious anyway. Roger has had the birth mother of his children over this weekend, and Anthea visiting is usually grounds for a good story. Stefanos himself has little to nothing to report. With the last remnants of the hormones of his heat cycle fading from his system, he has mostly slept through the weekend. 

“Come on in then. Sit down, talk to me. Tell me about your weekend. How was your day with Anthea?”

They settle at the desk and Stefanos takes one of the cups off Roger's hands. At the mention of Anthea, something flashes across Roger's face that Stefanos can't quite place. It looks almost like discomfort. That makes no sense though. Roger likes Anthea, and Anthea adores the kids. Somehow Stefanos cannot picture the older woman's visit to the Federer household ending up in some sort of drama... He is right, of course. The flash of negativity on the Swiss' face is not about Anthea's visit. As it turns out, it is about something Anthea has told Roger.

“Good. The children loved seeing her. But she had some... potentially upsetting news.”

“Is something wrong with her or the kids?”

“No, it's nothing personal. She says she's onto a fertility clinic fronting to be legally operating. She wants to get back to me once she has more details.”

“Sounds bad...”

Roger nods at that rather emphatically and Stefanos is glad the Swiss hasn't gone into detail. They all share the same feelings about fertility clinics that operate underneath the radar or on the brink of legality and are essentially nothing else but breeding farms, abusing and exploiting omegas with no consideration to their health – neither physically nor mentally. Stefanos hates missions like that. Because even when they bring people back from those clinics, even if they save omegas like this, the pain they have been subjected to, the humiliation and the degrading conditions, it lingers and stays with them for the rest of their lives, shaping them, bending them and making them... less of what they ever could be. Stefanos swallows hard and unfortunately Roger is not making matters much easier for him. The young Greek decides it's best to change the subject.

“From what she told me... it really is.”

„While we are on the subject of bad news... They are sending us another one.“

„Another one what?“

Roger being oblivious like that doesn't happen too often, but Stefanos blames it on the bad news Anthea has had for the older man. The young Greek takes a sip of his coffee before he continues. He has hoped for the hot beverage to calm both his nerves and his feelings a bit, but it doesn't really help. He is still very much annoyed by that phone call and the consequences of it all. He doesn't even try to keep the disdain from his voice when he tells Roger about their new and unwanted volunteer. 

„Of those good-for-nothing, small-minded bigots thinking they can have their way with any omega just because they feel they are better than us...“

„They're sending us a another small-time criminal to complete his sentence with our NGO?“

„Don't call them small-time. The crimes these people commit, they are not small. They are godawful.“

Being entirely honest, Stefanos doesn't even know which crime in detail this one has committed. All he has gotten from the official at the other end of the line in a heavy German accent has been a name and a date and time of arrival. The name hadn't exactly sounded German, but Stefanos couldn't care less where exactly their new volunteer is from and what his story is. All that he does know, is that they don't need people like that here. People who have to be here and who aren't remotely dedicated to the cause... Roger's rather pragmatic question pulls Stefanos from his internal ranting.

„What is the sentence?“

„500 hours, 6 months.“

„500 hours of community service to be completed within six months is a LOT.“

Roger sounds troubled the way he reacts to the sentence, and Stefanos isn't quite sure whether that is because the older man feels it's unjust punishment... or because the crime pertaining to such a rather... drastic sentence - in what has most definitely been a plea bargain - is most definitely a bad one. Stefanos knows a little about the crime. In his eyes, community service - even if it is that much - is definitely too little of a punishment. Were it up to him, this guy they are sending them, would not come to help out at their charity. Were it up to him, that guy would go straight to jail. Even the thought of the injustice of it all puts Stefanos back in a rage and he glares at the Swiss sitting opposite of him, though none of this is Roger's fault.

„It's not a sentence, Roger. Not really. It's a slap on the hand. He hasn't been sentenced but has managed to get himself this bargain, there is no jail time and the record will be expunged after a five year period... And for some reason they are sending these people to work with us. Always to our charity.. You know why?“

“Because we can use every help we can get?”

Roger sounds more sardonic than actually convinced of his own words and Stefanos gives a small, humorless laugh in response. They both know the truth, though Roger doesn't exactly like admitting to it. But what they do here, the kind of charity works they do, it is not exactly appreciated... Especially by those countries around Europe that have never actually ratified the Accords, the European Union has agreed upon. Officials in those countries couldn't wait for them to slip up, make a mistake and find something, anything to use on them in order to discredit them. Funnily enough, it had happened almost every time one of those unwanted and unwilling volunteers had shown up on their doorstep.

“Yeah, that would be nice... But how come we have been investigated by the police the first time we had a... volunteer like this and a court case against us the third time they send someone like that? They aren't here to help us. They are here to infiltrate us.”

“You are being paranoid.”

“Maybe. Or just realistic.”

Roger neither denies nor agrees with Stefanos' assessment of the situation. It's not like the young Greek is wrong. They – or more precisely Roger – have been doing this for ten years now, but it is only in the last year and a half, that volunteers working off demerits and social service hours had showed up here, that they had gotten into legal trouble not only once, but twice. The pattern is pretty distinct... But just like the two times before, Roger doesn't want to hear about it. He changes the subject back to their new volunteer at hand instead. 

„What exactly did he do?“

„The official I talked to was kind of vague, but from what I gathered he... he handed over an omega to a friend in order for them to have sex. That is a crime in my book – no matter the status, don't you think?!“

“Why don't you give this one a chance before you condemn him?”

“To do what?”

The whole concept of giving somebody, Stefanos knows has done wrong and deserves an even harsher sentence than the one that has been given to him, a chance to be his friend or to win him over, seems entirely useless to the Greek. It's not only useless, it is idiotic. He doesn't want to make a friend or even an acquaintance in this guy. He knows everything he needs to know about this new volunteer... Or at least, he knows enough about him to be sure, he doesn't want any part in getting to know this man any further than what he has already found out about him in that phone call. 

“Convince you that he is better than the crime he has been sentenced for.”

“I don't need to get to know him. He's like any other alpha, feeling he is entitled. They are all the same.”

“I'm not.”

With that statement Roger takes the wind right out of his sails. Stefanos should have expected as much. Unlike him – who would rather have been born a beta and be done with this whole matter - Roger doesn't mind his own status. Why should he though. He's an alpha after all. And even if he doesn't act all entitled and arrogant, even if he knows from years of experience here at the charity what tortures and humiliations omegas are subjected to on a daily basis, he can never really understand. Because it is not in his nature... 

“No. But you're different. You are neither arrogant nor discriminating or feeling like you are better than anyone who is not like you... You never committed any crimes against us. You decided to help us – all on your own.”

“I had motivation and incentive...”

“I know...”

They are talking about Rafa yet again, even though neither one of the two men actually mentions the Spaniard's name. But the facts are crystal clear. Rafa is the sole reason this whole charity exists in the first place. Hadn't the Spanish omega disappeared and hadn't the Swiss felt responsible in the wake of it, Roger never would have had any reason or cause to ever even find this charity organization. It's also the reason for his leniency to this new alpha volunteer. Roger doesn't want him here to simply work off his hours and then leave again. He wants to... convert this one to a happy member of their little group with the same conviction and believe in equality.

„You should not hate them...us. I had a change of heart about the whole idea of equality after... what happened. You should embrace the chance to broaden this one's perspective.“

„But what he has done... it is hateful. You of all people should understand this. You loved one of us once...“

„Yes. Once...“

Roger sounds utterly saddened at the memory of his relationship with Rafa that has long since been lost to him. Reminding him of that probably hasn't been the smartest move Stefanos could have come up with. He and Roger are colleagues, maybe even friends but they are not exactly close. He should not probe the older man about his relationship and the loss of it like this. He should mind his own business instead. Stefanos gives the older man an apologetic smile and concentrates on his coffee cup instead of looking the Swiss in the eyes. Would he be looking at Roger now, he could detect a small smile on his face.

„I'm sorry, Roger. I didn't mean to open old wounds...“

„You're not. It's... actually nice to remember sometimes. It has taken a decade but by now the good memories outweigh the pain of the loss...“

„Tell me?“

“Not today, Stef. Okay? Maybe another time...”

The Swiss finishes the rest of his coffee, and Stefanos is pretty sure Roger wants to get away from him. The second he is done with his beverage, he gets up from the chair opposite of Stefanos and he suddenly looks a lot older than his 37 years. Talking about memories like this, talking about Rafa and the very fact that he has lost the only omega he has ever loved, seems to have had a negative effect on Roger, one that has very much depleted him of his energy reserves. Stefanos lets him go. 

“Sure. Thanks for the coffee.”


End file.
